Like Lightning From The Sky
by Pmp2a-Trish
Summary: In an effort to save one of the Devil's Hole boys, Heyes makes a decision that can alter his and the Kid's future forever. This is a five part story. All five parts are posted.
1. Chapter 1

**Like Lightning from the Sky**

Part 1 of 5

For Hannibal Heyes, the past month had not been going well. First, he and Kid had almost been recognized in Phoenix. Then, on their way to Denver, it took them several days to shake an ambitious bounty hunter. Now, as they rode through the Wyoming territory they saw the posse. _At least_ , Heyes thought, _they're not after us_. From a high vantage point he and Kid Curry had a bird's eye view of the drama that unfolded beneath them. Each outlaw felt a sense of pity towards the bandits. However, if they were honest, they would admit they preferred the role of observers over that of active participants.

"Poor fellas, never knew what hit 'em." Kid remarked

"Idiots. They stopped that train way too close to its next stop. They were begging to be caught."

"I suppose." Down below, they saw the bandits pass in front of them, but they were too far away to be able to properly identify them. "You still got those binoculars?"

Heyes turned towards his saddle bag and, after some riffling, pulled out a pair of worn out binoculars with a broken strap and one lens missing. "Not sure if they're any good, they broke about a month ago."

Kid peered through the one side that was still intact. His eyes widened as he recognized the lead bandit. "Heyes, you're not going to believe this." Quickly, he passed the glasses back to his partner.

Through the looking glass Heyes saw what had captured Kid's attention. It was undeniable; leading the pack was none other than their former gang member, Wheat Carlson. Heyes took in a deep breath, "Well, all we can do is hope they are better at getting away from a posse than they were avoiding one."

Within moments, they watched a bullet find its mark. With a scream, the tail man fell sideways to the ground as his horse continued its trot. Heyes put the glass back up to his eye, "It's Kyle."

Frozen, the two watched the scene unfold. Two of the boys stopped momentarily, but as another bullet nearly made a successful attack, they were quick to realize that the posse was gaining too much ground; realizing the futility of any rescue attempt they spurred their horses and caught back up with the rest of the gang. As the posse approached the fallen man, one of the men stopped. Quickly satisfied with what he saw, he remounted and continued the chase.

"Heyes, we've got to get down there."

Heyes shifted uncomfortably, "They'll lose them in Nocturn's Bend, that posse will be back here before we can even get down there."

"Heyes!"

Both men were breathing hard. "I know, I know. Fine, I'll go down there. You get back to Devil's Hole; tell them I'm taking Kyle for help. You just keep Wheat from doing anything stupid, **again**."

Heyes quickly spurred his horse, and within minutes made it to the injured man's side. Curled in the fetal position, he clutched his left side as a small pool of blood formed on the ground. Kneeling beside him, Heyes rolled him to his back and gently moved his jacket to the side for a better look. Instinctively, Kyle went for his gun, "Whoa now, it's alright." Too weak to resist, he shut his eyes, wincing from the pain. Slowly, Heyes removed Kyle's gun from the holster and put it on the ground behind him. With quick assessment, he could see the exit wound and felt confident that the bullet only travelled through fatty tissue. He knew it wasn't a fatal injury, provided of course, the bleeding could be staunched before too much was lost. Heyes removed his own bandana and pressed it against the wound; in response, Kyle screamed out in pain.

Kyle's eyes flew open and as he focused through his agony, he slowly recognized who was kneeling beside him, "Heyes?"

"Can you ride?"

"Heyes, it hurts. It hurts real bad." A lone tear escaped Kyle's eye. With a bloody hand, he wiped it away. Trying to be strong, he asked, "I'm gonna die, aren't I Heyes?"

"No Kyle, you're not. We just need to get you to a doctor."

"Oh, I would think a jail cell would be more appropriate."

Heyes quietly cursed himself for not hearing the beat of hooves as the posse returned. Slowly rising, with hands in the air, he turned and faced the men. There were seven in all. Each had his gun pointed directly at him. On the leader's chest hung a tin star, the deputy, "Good evening, my name is…"

"Hannibal Heyes, leader of the Devil's Hole gang. And you, Mr. Heyes, are under arrest." He turned to the man to his right, "Andrew, get his firearm. Boys, we got ourselves a bonus, not only did we get one of the boys in the gang, but looks like we've captured ourselves the head of the snake."

Heyes looked down as Kyle grew paler by the moment, "This man is injured, I'm assuming that you will send a man ahead to fetch a doctor."

The man laughed, "Whatever for?"

The man's carefree attitude about a man's life surprised Heyes, "If you don't, he will bleed to death."

The deputy shrugged, "One less mouth for the system to feed."

A small murmur came from Kyle, "I don't wanna die."

Heyes's eyes darkened as one of the posse tied his hands behind his back, "His name is Kyle Murtree, wanted for $400, **alive**. If you let him die, it'll be murder."

The deputy walked up and stood just a few feet from Heyes, "No sir, he was shot while trying to escape apprehension. I guess that would be what educated people call an occupational risk. But when we get into town, I'll let the Doc know he's hurt, but I don't see Doc Samson bein' too keen on helpin' a good fer nothin' outlaw."

Rage built within Heyes as they forced him back up on his horse. Unable to sit up, they draped Kyle across the saddle for the ride back into town. As they rode over rough terrain, Kyle would moan with each bump and dip. With each cry of agony, the posse would laugh and snicker. Blocking out the sounds of inhuman consideration, Heyes instead focused on learning everything he could about what had transpired over the past few hours. The deputy wasn't very forthcoming, especially since he refused to believe that Heyes wasn't a part of the robbery, but through the jeers he discovered that the train had been stopped for a federal payroll. However, anticipating such an attack, the train carried one of the newest and strongest safes on the market. The boys had attempted to blow it with dynamite, but it was to no avail. Before they were able to consider an alternate course of action, the posse arrived.

* * *

In Rock Springs, the sheriff wasted no time placing the men in one of the corner cells. Before the door could even be closed, Heyes removed the sheet from a spare cot and created a makeshift bandage, wrapping the cloth tight around Kyle's injured side. After what felt like an eternity, Sheriff Windmiller finally returned. As the older, large man walked through the security door, Heyes knew that the news wasn't good. The man could barely contain his own amusement as he approached the captive men.

Heyes stood up and walked to the bars, "Is there something funny?"

"Yeah, just came back from Doc Samson's place. Said he wouldn't treat a lousy outlaw if his life depended on it. That's what happens when your lot robs innocent men. They tend to hold a grudge. Guess your friend is just plum outta luck."

Heyes seethed, "If he dies, Sheriff, you'll be the one out of luck."

From behind the door, the deputy called, "Sheriff, the prisoners have a visitor."

Heyes watched as he left the room. He had wondered when the Kid would finally arrive. With a sideways glance back to an unconscious Kyle, he began to wonder if it was already too late.

When Kid entered, he wore his best gray suit and hat, appearing as respectable as possible. Though hidden from anyone that didn't know him, Heyes could see the concern behind the blue eyes. The Sheriff smirked, "You got ten minutes."

Kid tipped his hat and then turned to Heyes, "Good evening Mr. Heyes. My name is Thaddeus Jones, Attorney." At the sound of the door locking, he relaxed and spoke softly, "How's is he?"

Heyes whispered, "The doctor in town refuses to treat outlaws. I think I've got the bleeding to slowdown, but he's fading fast. Where are the rest of the boys?"

"Wheat sent them back to the Hole. I ran into him and Lobo as they were on their way here. I sent them to the saloon to wait."

Heyes turned and took a moment to think. Returning to the bars, he whispered. "Alright, have Lobo go over to Sheridan and get Doc Mathis, he owes me a favor. Then, I want you to tell the sheriff that you've found a doctor that'll treat Kyle. If all goes as planned, we'll be out of here within the hour."

* * *

As Kid and Wheat made their way towards the Sheriff's office, Wheat stopped midstride, obviously nervous. "Kid, I'm not so sure about this."

"Wheat, as long as you give yourself away, it'll work."

Next to Kid, Wheat stood dressed in a tight black suit and hat. The suit stretched tight over an overinflated gut that Kid had created with a pillow from the hotel. His hair was slicked back and spectacles held tight to the face that was at least one size too large. In his right hand, he carried a bag that Kid had lifted from the local doctor's office.

Once inside the jail, Kid walked up to the sheriff's desk. "Sheriff Windmiller, this is Doctor Hampton from Denver. He has kindly agreed to see the prisoner."

Wheat stood up and puffed out his chest with overt bravado, "That's right, I'm Doctor Hampton."

Suspicious, Windmiller looked over the new man. "Well, I suppose, but we'll have to search the both of you first. Though I don't know why you would want to treat an outlaw."

Slightly offended, Wheat stated loudly, "Well, Sheriff, I took the hypercratic oath: do no evil."

Shaking his head, Windmiller directed his deputy to Kid, while he examined Wheat. As he moved around Wheat's waist, a puzzled look crossed over his face. Wheat gave a nervous laugh, "I wouldn't press too hard Sheriff; all I had for supper this evening was a can of beans and stewed tomatoes."

Pausing for a moment, Windmiller rethought his movements and instead gave a gentle pat down. After rummaging through the doctor's bag and finding nothing, he proclaimed, "Alright, you're clean." Turning to his deputy, he pointed back towards the door, "You wait outside, while I take these two in." As they walked back into the holding cells, he announced, "Look alive boys, a doctor is here to see you."

Allowing Wheat into the cell, Windmiller kept Kid on the outside, close to him. Bent over Kyle, Heyes asked, "Well, what do you think, doc?"

With his front hidden, Wheat slowly unbuttoned the front of his shirt. Underneath, there was a slit in the pillow. He tried to speak as formally as possible, "Well, it appears that he, uh, has been shot."

Heyes took a deep breath, "Is there anything that you can do for him?"

"Well, I think there might be something I can do." Wheat slowly pulled a gun from within the pillow.

Before he was able to pull it all the way out, Kyle opened his eyes and called out, "Wheat?"

With their cover blown, Heyes grabbed the gun and pointed it at Windmiller, who quickly backed towards the door, "Where are you going Sheriff?"

"You won't get away with this Heyes." He spoke, darkly.

"Oh, I think I will. Mr. Jones, how many men does the good Sheriff have guarding this building?"

"Just the deputy out front."

"Sheriff, if you wouldn't mind placing your gun on the ground and throwing your keys to Mr. Jones."

"I don't think so." He scoffed.

Heyes looked at him with disbelief, "Need I remind you that I'm the one with the gun?"

"You won't shoot me Heyes. It's a fact that you've never shot anyone, I don't see you doing it now."

Heyes's eyes turned black. Addressing Kid, he commanded, "Mr. Jones, would you be kind enough to relieve the Sheriff of his keys, you can just hand them to my friend here." He motioned towards Wheat at his right.

As Kid walked towards Windmiller, he began to draw. With lightning reflex, Heyes fired his gun and hit the man in his shoulder. Kid picked up the fallen gun and once securely armed, grabbed the keys from his belt and tossed them to Heyes. Immediately, the deputy came through the door. With two guns on him, he solemnly held up his hands in defeat. As Heyes came out of the cell, the Kid ushered in the deputy and sheriff and made haste gagging and tying the two men. As they walked out of the cell, Wheat steadied a half-conscious Kyle.

Retrieving their firearms from the sheriff's desk, Heyes glanced out the door, and then turned to his men. "Alright Wheat, you take Kyle to meet up with Lobo. Kid and I will go the other way; hopefully the posse will follow us. We'll meet back up at Devil's Hole as soon as we can."

Outside, they quickly made their way to the horses stashed behind the saloon. Too weak to ride on his own, Wheat steadied Kyle on a shared horse as they quietly rode north. Kid and Heyes, instead, rode in the opposite direction. As they passed the saloon, Kid tipped his hat to one of the girls standing on the porch; hoping that if asked, she would say "the strangers rode south."

An hour later, Kid and Heyes climbed a slight cliff and looked back in the direction of town. To their delight, the trail was posse free. Climbing back into their saddles, Kid asked, "I suppose this isn't going to help our amnesty?"

Heyes looked down at the reins he was holding. Righting himself in the saddle a bit, he answered, "Probably not, that's why I'm going to go explain things to Lom."

"Okay, I'm sure after we tell him…"

"No Kid, you're going back to Devil's Hole to check on Kyle." Kid shot him a confused look. "If the amnesty is lost, it's because of me. There's no need for you to lose your amnesty just because of what I did."

"If you hadn't, he would have shot me."

"I know, and I'll explain that to him. Besides, if it doesn't work out, I'm going to need you **out here** , ready to break me out if Lom does decide to arrest me."

The rest of the way they rode in silence. Kid could tell that his friend was worried. Not only was he worried, he was scared. Heyes bein' scared worried him. Cause Heyes didn't scare easily.

When they came to the crossroads they stopped their horses. "Well, Kid, this is it. If everything goes well, I'll send a telegram into Harris Town."

"And if'n it don't?"

Heyes shifted, and made a vain attempt at a smile, "I guess I'll figure it out then." There was a tense moment of silence, and then with a parting farewell, the two rode off in opposite directions. As they both rode, each had a sense of dread in the pit of their stomachs.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to come up as Heyes came into Porterville. From across the square he watched as Lom Trevors entered the Sheriff's office. In his hand he carried a newspaper. By the look on his face, the story of the jailbreak was on the front page. Heyes gave him a few minutes to get settled and then walked into the office. Once there, he was barely noticed. Lom sat at his desk, reading. _I was right, right on the front page_ , Heyes thought.

Heyes moved to position himself in front of the desk, "Lom." Slowly, he looked up and rose, after it set in who was standing in front of him, he made a quick glance at his side door. "I came alone."

"I suppose you're here to explain what happened in Rock Springs?"

Heyes relaxed and took off his hat, "Well, it's pretty simple. Wheat and the boys were trying to escape a posse and Kyle got shot. We both got arrested while I was trying to help him. Turns out, neither the sheriff nor the town's Doc cared about an outlaw bleedin' to death, so… I arranged a jail break."

"And at some point, you decided to fire your gun?"

"I didn't want to! I told Kid to get the keys and Windmiller started to draw!"

Lom let out a mournful sigh and sat down, "The Governor has already heard about this. I got a telegram this morning ordering me to arrest the two of you. He's also placed a warrant out for attempted murder."

"I hit him in the arm; I wasn't trying to kill him!"

"Heyes, it doesn't matter. You shot an officer of the law during a jailbreak. Smuggling in the gun shows intent to commit murder; discharging your weapon just proved it."

"There wouldn't have been a jailbreak if he had just gotten a doctor for Kyle. You know that we couldn't stand by and let him bleed to death."

"Heyes, I understand your loyalty to those boys, but you crossed the line when you fired your gun. I'm sorry, but there is nothing I can do."

Heyes leaned one hand on the desk, "Yes there is. Go to the Governor. Explain to him how Windmiller was gonna just sit back and let Kyle die – a man that is **not** wanted dead or alive." Heyes stood back up and brushed a piece of dust from his hat. "While you're at it, tell him the Kid wasn't involved."

"What?"

"C'mon Lom. Tell him it was someone else; no one can prove it was him. If I've lost my amnesty, fine, but there is no reason for the Kid to lose his too. I shot Windmiller, he didn't."

Lom ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Fine, I'll try. There's a train going to Cheyenne this afternoon, I'll be on it."

Heyes breathed a sigh of relief knowing that if anyone could convince the Governor, it would be Lom. After saying his goodbye, Heyes wired Kid with the update, and told him to stay put for further news. As he stood there, a telegraph came in.

Dear Mr. Smith

Your friend is in stable, but guarded condition

Will hopefully have full recovery within a month's time

Hope things are working out for you

Look forward to hearing word from Porterville

Sincerely

Thaddeus Jones

* * *

Heyes spent the following few days playing poker and resisting the urge to hightail it to Mexico. As luck would have it, the players in Porterville liked to bet high stakes on low odds and Heyes welcome both the money and the distraction. When Lom finally arrived back in town Heyes was waiting, as requested, in his office to see him. With one glance from his old friend, he knew things didn't go as he had hoped. Lom leaned against the door, closing it. Heyes asked, "Well?"

Lom took in and let out a deep breath, "The Governor didn't understand."

"Didn't you tell him about Windmiller and Kyle?"

Lom walked towards his desk, "Yes I did, and he agreed to send a man to investigate."

"What about the Kid?"

Lom rifled through some papers on his desk, desperate not to meet his friend's eyes, "As it stands, the deal is off, for the both of you."

Heyes leaned in, "What do you mean, _as it stands_?"

"Well, the Governor is willing to make another deal. Something called a plea bargain."

Heyes's eyes brightened, "Well, that's better than nothing, let's do this plea bargain."

"You might not want to after I tell you what is involved. He is willing to keep the deal with the Kid…"

"That's great!"

"But you have to turn yourself in and plead guilty to all charges. Because of the extenuating circumstances with Windmiller, he will drop the charge of attempted murder and let a judge decide your sentence. Once in prison, Kid cannot even attempt to break you out without forfeiting his own amnesty."

Heyes turned and walked to the window, "And if I don't agree to this?"

"Then you will both remain wanted men for armed robbery and attempted murder."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to think on that one a bit."

Lom understood, "Take tonight, he wants an answer by noon tomorrow."

In a daze, Heyes slowly meandered over to the saloon. There, he ordered a drink, and then another. Knowing his options were limited, he downed a third shot of whisky. They'd spent so many years avoiding bloodshed, and in one moment, it was all for nothing.

From behind, a saloon girl put a hand on his upper thigh. Her dress was a bright blue and exposed a great deal of her full figured body. He figured she was probably in her mid to late twenties, even though she looked about thirty five. Her make-up was heavy to hide the years of damage that her job had caused.

"Well, if you're just gonna stand there and stare…."

As she turned to leave, Heyes grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him, "No, perhaps you are just what I need." With the speed of a whip snake, he pulled her into an embrace, probing the depths of her mouth, imprinting every sensation to memory. He decided that if he was going to lose his freedom, he might as well enjoy his last night of it.

* * *

As Heyes left the hotel the following morning, he went directly to the telegraph office and sent a request for Kid to come to Porterville immediately. Stepping out into the morning air, he looked up at the bright sun burning above and wondered how long it would be until he once again felt the gentle whisper of freedom.

With his head slightly hung, he made his way to see his dear friend and tried to muster a courage that he did not feel. As soon as he entered the Sheriff's office, Lom stood to greet him. Taking the gun from Heyes's outstretched hand, he sighed, "Part of me was hoping you would just ride off and I'd never see you again."

Removing his gun belt, Heyes walked over to the cell. Opening the door, Lom placed a hand on Heyes's shoulder as he passed through the doorway. Sitting on the cot, Heyes held his head in his hands as he stared at the floor, "When's the trial?"

"I'll go speak to the judge now, but probably in the next day or two. Have you contacted the Kid?"

"Just wired him."

"I'll hold off on letting the paper know until he gets here. Also, I'm not planning on deputizing any extra men; I wouldn't want to waste the city's money or anything."

Heyes understood exactly what Lom was getting at and merely nodded. After hearing the door close, he laid on the cot and stared at the ceiling.

This was it.

As he thought back over the years, the threat of prison had always been there, but he always knew he would somehow get out of it. This time was different; this time there was no hope of escape because he couldn't allow it. This was Kid's only chance at freedom.

Explaining all of this to Kid was another problem. He'd just have to convince him that this was for the best. First, however, he'd have to convince himself.

* * *

It was late in the day as Kid pulled his horse up to the hitching rail. As he opened the office door his eyes immediately went to the cell, and to Heyes lying on the cot. Putting down the paper he was reading, Lom rose to greet him with his hand out, but Kid refused to shake it. "Kid, I'm glad you're here."

Kid just glared at the man he had considered his friend, "Why is he in there?"

Glancing over at Heyes, "You two need to talk." He turned to address Heyes, "I'll be back in an hour or so, I'll be over at the saloon. If you need anything, you are just going to have to wait until I get back."

Heyes smiled at Lom's attempt to give him a chance to escape.

Kid rounded on Heyes, who stood to face him. "What the hell was that about?"

"Kid, it's a long story, grab a chair."

As Kid listened, it was nothing but utter disbelief that kept him silent as Heyes explained the situation. After he finished, Kid's confusion turned to anger. "Why didn't you wait till I got here to turn yourself in?"

"Cause I knew you'd try to talk me out of it."

"You're damn right I would!" Kid stood up quickly, forcing the chair he was sitting in to fly backwards. "I'm your partner, remember?"

Heyes tried to be firm. "I didn't have a choice. Attempted murder is a hanging offense, you know that. You know how hard they chase us for robbing a couple of banks. Just think of how much harder they'd be chasing us for this."

"What about Mexico or South America?"

Heyes laughed half-heartedly, "When did you learn South American?"

"This ain't funny Heyes."

"No Kid, it's not." Turning, Heyes returned to the vacated cot.

"I think you're yella."

A flash of anger passed over Heyes' eyes, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. All these years, you've let me do the shootin'. All these years, you've let me be the one with blood on my hands, while you just stood back and did the talkin'. And I've **let** you do it."

"You're the one with the reputation as the fastest gun in the west; I didn't make you that way."

"No, but I did it because of you. Cause I knew you couldn't handle it. I knew that if once, just once, you let go, you wouldn't be able to handle it. That's what happened in Rock Springs, you lost your temper and you can't handle it."

Heyes slowly stood, "Of all the ungrateful, no-account… I saved your life!"

"Perhaps, Heyes. But you can't tell me that after he let Kyle lay there and bleed, that there wasn't one piece of you that was happy to do it."

Heyes walked over to the door and held onto it tightly, "Kid, if these bars weren't between us now, I'd…"

"You'd what Heyes? Lose your temper again?"

"I'm doing this for you. So you can get your amnesty. So that you can be free. So that in twenty years, I can be free, instead of meeting both our ends on a hangman's noose."

"Who are you trying to convince, Heyes, me or yourself?"

He could feel the wall go up between them, thicker and more impenetrable than any prison wall could ever be. "I don't want it to end like this."

Kid placed his hat back on his head, "Yeah, well you made that choice, I didn't. Don't expect me to stand by and just wave you off."

Storming over to the window, Kid stared out into the night. For Heyes, the silence was deafening. In every scenario he had run, he never realized just how hard it was going to be to face Kid's anger.

After what seemed like an eternity, Kid moved towards the door. Without a look back, he left, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Leaving the jail, Kid went directly to the saloon and ordered a whiskey. Spotting him at the bar, Lom walked over. "I thought you would stay at the jail a while longer." Kid just stared at the wall and swirled the whiskey in his glass before taking another drink. "I'm sure he told you the trial will be tomorrow?" Still, no response. "You can visit him whenever you like. Of course, when my deputy is on duty, he'll have to search you." Seeing the uselessness of his conversation, Lom just nodded solemnly and left.

A couple of shots later, Kid surveyed the room. In a corner, he saw a poker game with an empty seat. Casually, he walked over and sat down, "Good evening, boys."

There were four men at the table. Each were trail worn and dusty; the rough sort that he usually avoided, but as he thought about it, tonight he wouldn't mind a little trouble. By the end of the hour, Kid had won a fair share of the other men's money and on the last deal, he won with three aces. It was the man to his right, a burly man with dirty hair and even worse teeth, who spoke up, "Somethin' ain't right here." Kid began to collect his winnings, but the man stopped him, "I said somethin' ain't right here."

Kid glanced down at his hand and then up at the stranger, "You lost, I won."

"Yeah, well I think you're cheatin'."

"Well now, that is a problem, but it's yours, not mine." As he started to pull the money in, the man grabbed his arm. Kid once again glanced down at the man's hand, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Oh yeah?" Raring back, Kid blocked the swing that was aimed for him. With his other hand, he landed a solid punch to the gut. Within moments, the fight escalated into an all-out brawl as each man managed to get in some well-aimed hits. Chairs and tables broke as the fight moved from one area to the next. With his deputy behind him, Lom rushed in just as Kid was thrown by a punch to the jaw. With guns drawn, the law men quickly positioned themselves between the two angry men.

Helping Kid to his feet, Lom addressed everyone in the room, "Alright, the fight is over; nothing more to see."

The other man began nursing his sore jaw, "What about the pot? I say he was cheating, no one wins that good all night."

Lom looked down at the money strewn across the floor. "It goes to the rest of the players. Maybe next time you'll come up with a more productive way of handling your disputes." Taking Kid by the upper arm, he forcefully led him out of the saloon and into the square. Approaching a stone bench, he pushed him towards it. "Feel better now?"

Sitting on the bench and nursing his jaw, he glared up at his friend. "I can take care of myself." Kid made a move to stand, but with one shove, Lom forced him back on the seat.

With one foot propped up beside Kid, he leaned in close, "You come into my town and get into a fight and you think I don't have anything to say about it?"

"He started it!" Kid pointed back towards the saloon.

"Like hell he did. You went in there looking for a fight. I wouldn't be surprised if you did palm an ace or two."

Thumping his own chest, Kid yelled, "I don't need to cheat to win."

"No, but it sure as hell helps if you're wanting to take your anger out on someone." Quickly, Kid turned away. "Your partner is sitting in jail, ready to go prison, **for you** , and you pull something like this? I have a good mind to throw you in jail just to make you talk to him."

Kid stood and came within an inch of the Sheriff, in a deadly baritone he growled, "Stay out of it Lom."

"Kid, I want you to think about this. Heyes is going to prison and there ain't a damn thing you can do about it. The only choice you have is this, how are you going to say goodbye? You and I both know that a lot of men never make it out, is this how you want to say goodbye to someone you've been friends with your entire life?"

Without waiting for answer, Lom turned and left. Kid slowly sat back down on the bench and lay down and stared up at the night stars. Anger and whisky swirled through his mind. It blurred the images that kept arising. Memories, like nightmares, would not give him peace; memories of two boys playing in their parent's backyards, laughing and running, not a care in the world. Those same two boys discovering the bodies of their parents, murdered by cowards, leaning on one another because there was no one else; two grown men, walking into a bank with guns in hand, laughing as they ran out, as if they were still children getting away with nothing more than penny candy. Always together, but it was to be no more. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but at some point in the night, sleep overtook him as he drifted off into dreams forgotten.

* * *

"You ready?" Lom asked as he walked over to the cell door.

"Would it change anything if I said no?" Heyes asked with a half-hearted smile. As he exited the cell, Heyes glanced through the window at the crowd that was quickly gaining mass at the courthouse. "Hope all those people aren't here to see little ole me."

Seeing the true question behind his statement, Lom put a hand on Heyes's shoulder and quietly spoke, "He'll be there."

Heyes was escorted in through the throngs of gawkers and sightseers. Dressed in their best suits and ties, he and Lom sat at the table on the left side of the court. At the table across from them sat a tall gentleman going through the papers in front of him. The bailiff stood like a sentry beside the vacant jury box. Behind the railing, people pushed to get a better view. After a few moments, Heyes heard the deputy's voice in the back yell out, "Now that's it, the rest of you can just read about it in the paper."

Time seemed to stand still as Heyes waited; he kept his hands in his lap, not wanting anyone to see just how nervous he really was. Every few moments, he would try to casually look around, searching for that one familiar face, but finding none.

The bailiff stepped up and announced to the room, "All rise for the honorable Judge Lester T. Miles."

Standing, Heyes watched as a portly man with balding hair and thin glasses came through the door. His gown billowed as he stepped behind the bench and sat down. Peering over his glasses, he looked out over the crowd. "Seems we have a bit of a festival here. I haven't seen this type of outpouring of interest in the justice system since Jimmy Luff's murder trial over in Cheyenne. Sit down, sit down." He told the crowd. Grabbing a piece of paper, he read aloud, "This is the trial of the Territory of Wyoming versus Hannibal Heyes. Mr. Heyes will you please rise while the bailiff reads the charges."

Taking a piece of paper, the bailiff addressed the court. "January 12, 1871, armed robbery of the Western and Union railroad, theft of $15,000. May 31, 1871, armed robbery of the Pacific railroad, theft of $12,000. December 31, 1871, armed robbery of the Laramie Bank and Trust, theft of $24,000. May 12, 1872, armed robbery and the destruction of property of Rawlins First National Bank, theft of $39,000."

As the charges were read, Heyes was surprised at just how many jobs he had successfully been involved in and at just how much money he had taken over the years. He hid a smile at the thought that if only he had saved his earnings, disappearing would have been easy. _Hell,_ he thought, _I could have bought a house next to the Governor and no one would'a known._

As the bailiff finished the list, Judge Miles turned his attention once again to Heyes, "Mr. Heyes, how do you plead?"

Heyes opened his mouth to speak, but struggled with the words. Just then, something caught his eye. To his right, leaning against the wall, stood a bedraggled Kid Curry. Unshaven, his clothes were still dusty from the trail, and he sported an unmistakable bruise on his chin and below his left eye.

"Mr. Heyes?" The judge pressed.

Turning his attention back to the court, Heyes whispered. "Guilty."

"Excuse me?"

Clearing his throat, he spoke louder, "Guilty, your honor."

The room erupted in commotion. Banging on his desk with the gavel, the Judge yelled, "Order! I'll have order in this court, or else I'll clear this room and none of you will get to see." As the room settled, he returned his attention to Heyes, "Now, Mr. Heyes, do you fully understand the consequences of such a plea?"

Nodding, he said, "Yes sir, I do."

"Very well." He turned to the man sitting at the other table. "Now, is there anything the Territory would like to add?"

The man rose, "Just this, your honor. For years, this territory has been terrorized by the scourge of the bank and train thieves. The Territory of Wyoming requests that an example be made for anyone else considering going down this lawless path. We request the maximum sentence, twenty years."

Once again, the crowd erupted. With a bang of the gavel, the room quickly quieted. "Now, Mr. Heyes, I don't see any reason wasting your time or the Territory's money putting this off any longer. Before I declare your sentence, is there anything you care to say?"

Heyes thought about it for a moment. There was a lot he wanted to say. He wanted to point out that in all the banks and trains they robbed, not once did he take a dime from a passenger. He wanted to point out that, not only did he and his gang avoid bloodshed, but they condemned violent robberies and as a result several other gangs had followed their lead. He wanted to add that for the past year he had gone straight, even worked with the law to bring serious criminals to justice. As he opened his mouth, all he could utter was, "No sir, I don't."

"Very well. Now, as I'm sure you know, I have spoken to Sheriff Trevors and I even received a telegram from the Governor this morning. But it is not their job to dispense justice. It is their job to keep order and to legislate. Your crimes, Mr. Heyes, are many. How many lives have you interrupted by your thievery? How many thousands have had to be shelled out by insurance companies and the government? How much more does the bank have to pay for insurance because of what you and your _friends_ have done? Do you believe that cost doesn't get passed down to the consumer? Sheriff Trevor's told me how you and your partner have attempted to go straight over this past year, but that does not sway me. One year of honest living does not undo all the years of your criminal activity. It doesn't undo the influence you have had on the younger generation that looks up to you in some romantic sense as the _gentleman_ outlaw. No sir, I agree with this man over here." He pointed towards the prosecutor. "Perhaps when word gets out, and dime novels are printed about the fall of the great Hannibal Heyes, perhaps those most easily influenced will see you for what you are; a thief that was caught and that will finally pay for his sins. I sentence you, Mr. Heyes, to twenty years at the Wyoming Territorial Prison. Court is adjourned." Rising, he quickly exited the door from which he entered, leaving a stunned Heyes staring after him.

Gently, Lom pulled on Heyes's elbow and whispered. "C'mon." Then, after placing shackles on his wrists, he led him back through the crowd, towards the cell that was waiting for him.

* * *

"Just like I told the last one, he has no comment." Lom slammed the office door. It had been the fifth person trying to get in, trying to get a look at the fallen, trying to ask the question that everyone wondered – why?

Hannibal Heyes hadn't budged from his cot. He stared up at the ceiling, too numb to even acknowledge the uproar that his plea had caused. He didn't even hear as another wave of knocks resounded inside the small office.

"Heyes, you might want to talk to this one."

Looking up, he saw his partner, still in no better condition than when he spotted him hours before in court. Standing, he walked to the cell door.

"Kid, I'll need to take your gun." Without a word, it was handed over. "The Marshals are due to arrive any time now. I'm gonna go outside and see if I can get this crowd to move along. Deputy Harkins will be right outside the door if you need anything."

Neither man acknowledged a word spoken and patiently waited for the door to close.

Looking down at his boots, Kid softly said, "You just had to do it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, Kid. I did. You would'a done the same thing if you were me."

"And you would have been just as mad."

"Yeah, I probably would've." A tense moment of silence passed. "I need you to stay out of trouble. When you get that amnesty, you'll be able to come up and visit."

"I won't visit."

The two partners just stared at one another. Neither man wanted to admit the truth behind those words, that inside the prison, the sight of the other would be too hard. Heyes just nodded in understanding.

From behind, the door reopened and Lom stepped in, flanked by three Federal Marshals. Approaching the cell, one of the men held his revolver at the ready, while Lom opened the door. Heyes stepped out and without a word, another Marshal placed shackles on his wrists and ankles. Before being led away, he turned once again to his lifelong friend. "You take care of yourself and stay out of trouble."

With just a nod, Kid watched as Heyes was led outside, to the stage that was waiting. As the stage pulled away, Kid took his gun from Lom, mounted his horse and left, riding in the opposite direction.


	2. Chapter 2

Like Lightning From the Sky

(Comme Un Éclair dans le Ciel)

(Part 2 of 5)

"Well, well. What 'ave we 'ere?"

Kid Curry looked to his left. Standing in the doorway, staring out at the street, was a buxom brunette. Her dress was tight and barely covered the gifts that God had bestowed upon her. Her hair was loosely pulled back into a high bun, wild curls unfurled around her round face. Her thick Cajun accent was laced with a slight southern drawl and in her left hand she held a lit pipe.

With a devilish grin, she waved for him to come over. "Look like we 'ave ourselves somewon new in town. If you're lookin' for good girls, I got good prices. If you're not interested in tha', I got bad girls for just a little mo'."

Kid could feel the heat rush to his cheeks.

"Now, now, no need for that. Hunny, you in Nawlens. Come on in and rest up awhile."

Kid smiled and tipped his hat, "Perhaps another time, ma'am. But thank you."

"Nah, thank you."

Looking down the road he was walking, he was impressed by the sight. Both sides of the road were lined with beautiful French establishments. The bright sun shone down on the ornate balconies and rustic shutters. The men and women entering and leaving the buildings all held an air of excitement and mischief, an atmosphere that he quickly associated with his time in the gang.

New Orleans's reputation of beholding wine and excess had preceded his visit. Judging by the girls that were visible from the street, excess was definitely something they beheld. He had always wanted to visit New Orleans, and specifically the famous Bourbon Street. Through the years in the gang, as things would heat up with the law, he had often made the suggestion to Heyes that they make the trip. However, Texas was as far as Heyes would go. Secretly, Kid was always pretty sure that anything further east was just too close to the south. It was too close to those states that decided to make a fatal decision that not only cost hundreds of thousands of lives, but destroyed their own childhoods as well. But now with Heyes in prison, he was no longer constrained by the whims of his erstwhile partner.

The sounds of trumpets and strings fluttered into the air as he continued his trek down the street. Entering into one building, he made his way to the bar and ordered a beer. Nursing his drink, he took in his surroundings. The room was dark and smoke-filled, and to his dismay, a poker game could not be seen. In the corner, a small band joyfully played the music that seemed to permeate the area. Scantily clad women cozily swayed up against the men, their bodies moving in time to the rhythm. One such girl placed her hand on Kid's left knee and leaned in close to his ear. "May I offer you a New Orleans welcome?" She asked as her hand travelled up the inside of his thigh.

Kid placed one hand over hers, stopping it mid-track. With his other, he brushed the hair away from her face. Inches from her lips, he whispered, "Later, maybe." Pressing his lips against hers, he tasted the sweetness she offered; a hint of rum escaped her lips that fueled his desire. It had been too long since he had engaged in some of life's finer interests. But old habits die hard, and he knew he needed to check out the rest of town, to make sure that his identity was safe, before he risked being caught with his pants down, literally.

Pulling away, he finished the remainder of his drink and then exited back out onto the street. Looking up into the afternoon sky, he asked himself, _what have I gotten myself into?_

"Ooh, that answer will come soon enough."

Kid turned; behind him stood a large woman. She was darker than anyone he had ever seen before. Her dress was colorful, with beads and scarves. She placed one hand upon his cheek and he quickly took a careful step back.

"A childhood torn can repair that of another."

"Excuse me?"

"Only one that has suffered can understand the sufferings of another."

"Look ma'am, I don't know what you are getting at…"

She bowed her head and stepped back. "May the spirits keep you safe as they return you to a face from your past." Turning, she walked away and quickly disappeared among a crowd of men exiting a nearby building.

Shaking his head, Kid turned and made his way back out of Bourbon Street. He quickly decided that Heyes had been right. They had no business going east of Texas.

* * *

As he approached his hotel, he heard a man yell in the distance, "Come back here you little…" just as a weight crashed into his leg. Looking down, a blond child landed squarely on the ground, clutching a pair of apples in his hands. Looking back, they both saw the same sight, a police officer running their way. Kid reached down and hoisted the boy up by the arm.

Placing himself between the boy and the law, he kept a firm hand on the child as he spoke to the officer. "Excuse me sir, what seems to be the problem?"

The man bent over, huffing at the exhaustion his run had caused. He wasn't a fit man, his gut protruded over his belt and his bald head beaded with sweat. "That little… he just stole those from the market and I'm going to have his hide."

Looking down, the child's eyes began to fill with tears. "Sir, do you know this boy?" Kid asked, cautiously.

"I know his type. Little thieves. Born a thief, probably die a thief."

Kid stood tall. "I don't appreciate that type of talk about my son." Pulling the child in front of him, Kid kneeled and looked him in the eye. "Did you lose the money I gave you this morning? Did the Braxton boys take it from you again?" Kid held his breath, hoping the child would pick up his cue.

Cautiously nodding, the child whispered, "Yes sir. I'm sorry."

Standing, he continued to hold a tense grip on the child. "Officer, my son has been having a difficult time with some of the neighborhood kids. How much do the apples cost?"

Unsure, the officer shrugged, "Ten cents apiece."

Pulling out some change from his pocket, he dropped the money into the man's outstretched hand. "Here's fifty cents. If you would give the shopkeeper my apologies and let him be assured that this won't happen again." Before the man could say any more, Kid firmly guided the young child away from the street and into the hotel. From the window inside, Kid moved the curtain back to view the street. Slowly and with a limp in his step, the officer returned from the direction he came.

As soon as he was out of sight, the child dashed to get away. Pulling him back, Kid asked, "Is that how you thank me for just saving your hide?"

The child looked up, impishly, "Sorry sir. Thank you." The child's eyes darted between Kid and the door.

"Look kid, I'm not going to hurt you." The child stared at the ground. "Why did you steal the apples?"

The child shrugged, "Don't have any money. I was hungry."

"What about your parents?"

The boy started bouncing on his heels, nervously looking around, "Don't have any. Can I go now?"

Kid glanced up; at the back of the room was the entrance to the restaurant that sat adjacent to the hotel. "Can't have the law see you running around so soon. Let's get you something to eat. C'mon." With a slight tug, Kid pulled the boy to the restaurant and requested a table for two.

Just as they sat a thin brunette waitress sauntered over to their table. "What can I get you two this afternoon?"

"What do you suggest?"

"Well, you won't find any finer Cajun gumbo than right here."

"Sound good?" Kid asked the boy. The child meekly shrugged. "Two, please."

Once the waitress was securely out of earshot, Kid asked, "So, how about a name?"

"Robert."

"Robert what?" He quickly looked away. "I'm Jones, Thaddeus Jones." For a moment, he just looked at the kid. He couldn't have been more than nine or ten. He had shaggy blond hair, blue eyes and a scared look that only came from being young and alone. His clothes were dingy and a size too large. His fingers were dirty, but hung tight to the apples he still held. Taking one from him his hands, Kid asked, "Mind if I have this one, since I did pay for it?" Robert just shrugged. Taking a bite, he waved a finger at his young charge. "Look, stealing isn't the answer. You could go to a grown up, maybe a church or to the law; they would get you to someone that would take care of you."

The waitress returned with two steaming bowls of food. Taking in a spoonful, Kid's tongue quickly burned. Grabbing a glass of water, he downed its entire contents. The boy, however, tried desperately to hide his amusement. "Is it always this hot?"

"Cajun gumbo is. Where you from, mister?"

"Wyoming."

Robert's eyes lit up. "Wyoming? You mean like the Wild West? I've heard a lot about Wyoming. It's filled with bank and train robbers and lawmen and posses. Have you ever been on a train that's been robbed? I bet it's exciting. Mikey always said it wasn't as wild as they say, but I bet it is."

Kid chuckled, "Looks like you've been reading too many dime novels."

"Only the ones about Heyes and Curry. They are the greatest outlaws of all time! I read one that said they stole from the banks so that they could give back to the poor. And they never shot anyone! Did you ever meet Heyes and Curry?"

Kid struggled to compose himself. "No, never had the chance. And I wouldn't believe everything you read. In fact I'm pretty sure all the money they stole, they kept."

He shrugged. "They still never shot anyone. They're the good outlaws. Mikey and I always wanted to try to find them one day."

"Who's Mikey?"

Robert's face fell, staring back down into his lap, he shrugged. "Just a friend."

"Does Mikey live around here too?"

Without another word, Robert stared into his bowl as he ate. Kid could sense the wall returning. Determined to keep that from happening, he continued on. "You know, I did hear one story about how Heyes and Curry lost their folks when they were young too." The boy looked up. "They never had anyone to watch after them. They ended up making some pretty bad decisions. You know, posses aren't like what you read about. The bullets they fire, they hurt."

He shrugged, "I know. It's still pretty exciting though. I don't really want to be an outlaw. Just wouldn't mind meeting them, ya know? No matter what they did, they never hurt no one. I wish everyone was like that." Again, he became lost in his bowl.

"You got a place to stay?"

"There's a couple of buildings over yonder that no one locks up. A bunch of us sleep there at night."

"That doesn't sound very safe. Look, I got a room at the hotel, why don't you stay there? Get you a good night's rest, and then tomorrow, we can see about finding someone to take care of you."

"I, I don't know."

"Look kid, some old building isn't safe. You'll be safe with me."

"You promise?" He uttered, meekly.

"You have my word. And in the west, there's nothing that means more."

* * *

 _He had come across the scene alone; his parents lying in an endless pool of their own blood. His father's fingertips lightly touching those of his bride. In that moment, the child was sure that everyone was gone, that he was now all alone._

 _It could have been minutes or hours, in his grief time stood still; however, the moment he saw him come around the corner, it was the happiest moment of his life. Knowing that he at least had one friend left, that he wasn't alone, gave him the strength to rise from the ashes. From the look on his face, his friend was just as happy to see him. Then, they set out to build a new life. Together, even an army couldn't bring them down. Together, they could overcome every obstacle that life, and the law, put in their way. Together, they were unstoppable._

With a start, Kid woke from his laborious slumber. Instinctively reaching for the head board, he felt the familiar comfort of his gun belt, weighed down by his revolver. Collapsing back upon the pillow, he ran his hands down his face, desperately trying to wipe away the images that still burned in his mind.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room, he saw Robert huddled in the chair by the door. Striking a match, he lit the kerosene lamp that hung between the beds. The light flickered as the fire engulfed the wick, shadows danced across the walls and the boy shuddered.

"You okay?"

Robert buried his head between his knees.

"Hey," Kid rose and in two strides made it to his side; kneeling down, he stared up at the frightened boy. "What happened?"

From beneath the tightened limbs, the boy cried, "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Cause, he'll kill me."

Kid took a deep breath. Images of bastard outlaws, using their weapons to frighten those weaker than themselves flooded his memory. The idea of someone using the threat of violence to intimidate a young child struck a nerve like no other. Forcing his voice to stay even, he spoke again. "Robert, no one is going to hurt you. I won't let them."

Robert looked up, sorrowfully, "You can't stop him." Bowing his head again, the boys shoulders quaked as his body was racked with tears.

Kid placed a hand upon Robert's shoulder trying to pass a strength that he knew the child desperately needed.

* * *

In the days that followed, Robert remained elusive about his past. As soon as the subject would be broached, he would either quickly change the subject or turn inward, seeking solace in his own refuge. At the suggestion of seeking out public assistance, his behavior would become even more erratic and Kid would see his eyes dart towards the door. It was a look that was all too familiar after years of dodging the law and always having an escape plan firmly in mind. Without a doubt Kid knew, that if forced, the child would run.

At night, each wrestled with the demons behind their eyes. Struggling to fight horrors unspoken, neither confiding in the other, instead, each bore the weight of their pasts on their own. One such night, Kid awoke to the sounds of sobs from the other bed. Thrashing from side to side, he whimpered, "Please, don't hurt me. I won't tell, I promise. Please!"

Kid placed a gentle hand on his arm and Robert bolted upright, grabbing him around the waist. Burying his face, his shoulders convulsed from the tears. Unsure exactly how to respond, Kid cautiously put one arm around his shoulder and spoke softly. "No one is here. No one is going to hurt you."

"He killed her. He killed Mikey because she told."

Kid looked to the heavens for strength. "She told what?"

"She told me." Overcome with sobs, he pulled away and again, curled inward.

* * *

The next afternoon, Kid sat by the window, meticulously cleaning his gun, when Robert entered the room with food he had been sent out to get. At the sight of the gun, he stopped and slowly placed the food on the foot of one of the beds. A moment of silence passed. Slowly, he eased onto the other bed and sat down, staring in awe at the piece.

"You any good with that?"

Kid shrugged, "Good enough to feed myself, if'n I need to."

"Have you ever shot anyone?"

Kid nodded, solemnly, "Only when I had to, when I had to protect someone else. But I've never killed anyone. There's a difference."

Staring down, the boy dangled his feet off the edge of the bed.

Placing the half-cleaned gun on the table beside him, Kid leaned close. "Secrets can hurt people. If someone killed your friend, he might go after someone else. You think so much of Heyes and Curry, ya know, I once heard a story where they risked their own lives to save their friends."

Robert looked up, intrigued.

"Yep, they were on a train with a bunch of men that was going to ambush the gang, kill 'em all. Well, as soon as they could, Heyes and Curry got off that train and warned the boys, even though they knew they could be killed as well."

"Really?"

"Yep." Kid swallowed hard, he felt a little guilty exaggerating the peril he and Heyes had been in with the Bannermen men, but quickly felt it was justified as he saw the boy considering what he had said.

"He was hurting her." He spoke softly. "He told her that if she told anyone, he'd kill her. But I saw the bruises and kept asking her." Tears streaked down the cherub-like face. "So, she told me. She told me what he did to her. How he would hit her."

Understanding slammed into Kid's gut, "Why didn't you go to her parents, the law?"

"We couldn't. They wouldn't believe us." Robert curled into a ball, burying his face deep. "We was gonna run away. She always wanted to go to Wyoming, so I told her I'd take her; find Heyes and Curry, just like she wanted to. We was supposed to get together, but she never showed up."

"What happened?"

With his arms tightly locked around his knees, he looked up and wiped away the tears, "She hated water, it was the only thing she was afraid of, she would have never gone down there…"

"Down where?"

"The river. They found her in the river."

"Robert, who did this to her?"

"Her Pa."

* * *

 _His parents were gone. Their lives, their souls, spilled into a deep pool around their chests. Their faces turned to one another, their last emotions etched into their brows. Sorrow at what was never to be. His mother on her side, her belly still protruded from the child within, the sibling he would never know. For a moment he thought he saw movement, but knew that wasn't possible, he had been too late. "You'll be a good big brother, you'll protect him." She used to always say, so sure that this child was also going to be a boy. But he wasn't a good big brother, or a good son. He failed, unable to protect the two people that he loved the most._

 _Then he rounded the corner, his hair still too long, and his eyes too dark. "Up to no good." His ma always chided his friend as she would ruffle his parted locks. "You'll have my baby in jail before he's old enough to spell it."_

 _Stopping by his side, he knelt beside the bodies and placed an arm around his young friend. Softly, he whispered. "Don't worry Ma Curry; I'll take care of him."_

Another night of fitful dreams; another night of each waking up, unable to wash off the sadness that clung to them like a coat too small. Kid hated nightmares, especially ones that pulled from his own memories; looking across the breakfast table, he knew the kid felt the same. He also knew that he wasn't going to let this kid, this child, go through life with this burden on his shoulders. He knew too well how hard it was to carry that level of guilt.

Kid wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin on his emptied plate. His hands together, he leaned against them as he watched Robert finish his last bit of eggs and bacon.

As the waitress removed the empty plates, Kid spoke, "Where are you from? What town?"

"Baton Rouge, why?"

"Cause after we eat, I'm going over to the stage depot and getting us two tickets to Baton Rouge."

Wide eyed, Robert stood. Grabbing his arm, Kid put him back into the chair. "I can't go back there, I told you!"

"Yes, you did."

"He'll kill me!"

"No, he won't. It's different now."

"How?"

"Now, you have me."

* * *

The road to Baton Rouge was long and bumpy. The stage only carried Kid and the boy and lacking any heavy weight from passengers or luggage, it seemed to jump with every rock and hole that the wheels came across. After an hour in, Kid stuck his head out the window and yelled to the driver, "Hey, you think you could hit a few more boulders?" Looking back, his horse continued its trot, tethered to the back of the stage. "Just a little further."

Robert sat to his left, staring out the window, his knees tight against his chest.

"It's going to be alright."

Without looking back, he scowled, "No, it isn't."

Less than three hours had passed since he told Robert he was taking him home. At every opportunity, Robert had tried to run, to escape the fate that stood in front of him. Kid tried to reassure him, convince him that no one would hurt him as long as he was there. However, the child remained unconvinced and grew increasingly withdrawn.

"Your parents were worried sick about you." Robert pulled his knees tighter. "The telegram from the Sheriff said he'll meet us at the stage depot. We'll tell him what happened and he'll be able to arrest Mikey's father."

"They won't believe me, why don't you understand that?" He turned and glared angrily at the former outlaw.

Kid spoke calmly, "We'll find a way to make them believe us."

Robert scoffed, "How?"

"Trust me."

Without another word, the frightened boy turned back to the window, refusing to speak another word for the remainder of the trip.

As they rolled into Baton Rouge, Kid stared in awe at the town. He had been in large towns in the west, Denver, San Francisco, but nothing compared to this. The buildings towered over the stage as it winded down the cobble street. Kid looked up, trying to find the tops. The buildings must have been four, maybe five stories tall. He just couldn't understand how a building could withstand so much weight put upon it. It made him smile to know, that with just the right footing, heavy burdens could be carried.

Finally at their destination, they stepped out of the stage and immediately saw a woman run from across the street. Her hair was dark and pinned in a tight bun, she held up her floral dress as she ran, her tight shoes barely missing the pits and bumps in the road. She yelled, "Mon bebe!"

Seeing his mother, Robert ran to greet her, burying his face in her outstretched arms, "Maman!"

"J'ai ete tellement inquiete! I have been so worried. Je t'aime plus que ma proper vie."

Robert sobbed in his mother's arms, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Looking up, she locked eyes with Kid as he walked up to the pair. Standing, she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. Her eyes closed, she whispered, "I can never thank you enough." Pulling away, she tightly wrapped one arm around Robert's shoulders.

"It was nothing ma'am." Kid smiled as he tipped his hat.

From behind her, the sheriff and a tall, thin man, walked to greet the trio. The man had lighter hair, blond eyes, obviously Robert's father. They shared the same thin stature, and lanky arms. A set of spectacles was perched high on his nose. Stretching out his hand, he greeted Kid. "We can't tell you how grateful we are sir. Our son means everything to us. If there is anything we can ever do for you, just say the word."

"Well, to be honest sir, it'd just make me right happy if the three of you would just listen to what Robert has to say. Do that and we can pretty much call it even."

With eyes on him, Robert again shied away into the warmth of his mother's skirt, hiding his face from all that could be seen.

With a wave of his hand, the sheriff signaled towards his office. "Perhaps we should go inside then."

* * *

"He's wrong!" Robert's father, a Mister Jack O'Connor stood forcefully, storming back towards the door.

Robert buried his face in his mother's chest, crying in earnest.

"Damnit, Bridget, I loved Mikey as much as anyone, but you know Jonas, he wouldn't do that. You saw how he was at her funeral!"

Kid stood upright, coming off the wall that he had been patiently leaning against as they all listened to Robert tell his story. "What about the rest of what Robert told you, about her Pa hitting her?"

Jack's face turned beet red with anger, "I don't know what Mikey told him, but I know my brother and he never…" He stopped, a loss for words, "If anyone suggests otherwise, well, we can just finish that discussion out on the street."

Quickly placing himself between the two men, Sheriff Willhouse laid a calming hand on the agitated man's chest. "Calm down Jack. Look, take Robert home; he's been through a lot these past few weeks. Let him get some rest and a good home cooked meal. Just don't push it tonight; you know how kids can be. Their little minds just can't understand when someone they love dies, so they cope the only way they can. Give him a couple of days."

Hesitantly satisfied, he nodded agreement, "C'mon Bridget."

The door slammed as the tall man left. Slowly standing, Bridget hesitated as she pulled her son close. Flattening his hair, she looked deep into the tear streaked faced. "It's going to be alright." Looking towards Kid, her voice cracked, "He'll be alright."

As she passed the outlaw, he placed a light hand on her elbow and whispered, "You know he's telling the truth."

Her voice was deep and held an animalistic tone that Kid was unfamiliar with coming from a lady. "No one is ever going to hurt him. That's the one thing I do know."

Kid watched as the pair slowly made their way out of the office. Just before the door closed, Robert looked back, glaring at the man he thought he could trust. Turning to the sheriff, Kid asked, "You are going to ask Mikey's Pa about what happened?"

Willhouse took a deep breath. "Mr. Jones, I've known Jonas O'Connor my whole life. Hell, we grew up less than two houses down from each other. Robert's been through a lot, I'll give you that. But Jonas isn't a monster; I'll stake my career on that. Why don't you go over to the hotel, get you a room and a hot meal. Tell Louise dinner is on me. Tomorrow, after a good night's rest, we'll get everyone together and get to the bottom of this."

Not satisfied, Kid let the man open the door and escort him out onto the street. As he repositioned his hat, he heard a rush from behind. Turning, he saw a young woman running towards him, her long dark hair flowing behind. "Thaddeus!"

Unable to contain himself, he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her into the air. "Michelle! What are you doing here?"

"When Bridget said a man by the name of Jones had brought back Robert, I knew it had to be you."

"You know him?"

She nodded. "He is my nephew." Michelle looked around and spoke softly, "Perhaps we should speak, in private."

Motioning towards the restaurant, they entered and Michelle led them to a booth in the corner. Staring up at Kid she attempted a smile, "I always hoped I'd run into you again, but not like this."

"Did your sister tell you what Robert said?"

Pausing, she slowly began to pick at the napkin that sat in front of her, "I saw her as they were leaving. She said that Robert claims that Jonas killed Mikey." Looking up, she begged for the answer she wanted to her. "Tell me it isn't true."

"That's what your brother-in-law and the sheriff seem to think."

"And you?"

"I think I'd like to meet this man and get some answers for myself."

"I'm afraid it's true."

Puzzled, Kid leaned in. "What makes you say that?"

Michelle took a deep breath. "Tressa never should have married him. Our families grew up together; our father just expected Bridget and Tressa to marry the sons of his business partner, Jonas and Jack. Jack is a good man."

"And Jonas?"

"He drank and gambled. When he would get angry, he would get violent. About ten years ago, our father was planning a double wedding. He wouldn't listen, so Tressa left."

"Then what happened?"

"Bridget and Jack were married and were very happy. A year later, I received a telegram, Tressa was coming home. She came home, and they married. The next thing I know, both Bridget and Tressa are expecting babies and were both happy, that is, until earlier this year."

"Something changed?"

"One night, Tressa came to New Orleans, with Mikey. She was very upset, said she was leaving Jonas. He had gotten very drunk and hit them both. She said she couldn't take it anymore, and she told him the truth."

"What truth?"

"He isn't Mikey's father. She was expecting before they married. The next thing I know, our father and Jonas arrived and convinced her to go home. Jonas threatened to take Mikey from her if she didn't."

"Even though he wasn't her father?"

"I begged her to stay, but she left. A month later, they say she killed herself."

"But you don't believe that?"

"I did, until Mikey died." She wiped away a tear. "I came to tell everyone what I knew, but then Robert was gone, and it would have been my word against one of the O'Connor boys." She took a deep breath. "What are we going to do?"

Kid took Michelle's hand in his and gave it a light pat. Staring deep into her eyes, he spoke harshly, "We're going to stop him."

* * *

 _The boys stood, slowly._

 _The blond child stifled a tear, desperate not to show the fear that threatened to overtake him. "What now?"_

 _The dark haired boy shrugged, "We move on."_

" _What if something else happens, something to one of us?" His voiced cracked, just as he hoped it wouldn't._

 _Placing his arm around his friend's shoulder, "We'll always be there for each other, even if we're a world apart."_

The next morning, Kid awoke with a groan. Their plan in place, Michelle had convinced the O'Connors to allow him to stay at their house. Claiming that he was an old beau from her time in Mexico, they were able to argue past their objections of impropriety and allowed them to share a room. However, Kid still refused a portion of the bed and instead made his attempt at sleep on the chair by the door. He rose and attempted to stretch, but with each pang and ache, he began to second guess his decision to remain a gentleman.

Wearing a dress that further challenged his chivalrous nature, Michelle entered with a tray of coffee and a small sandwich.

"Jonas will be here soon. Are you sure this will work?"

"If everything Robert has told me about Mikey is true, it'll work. Have you talked to Bridget?"

"Yes, she has agreed to help us. I've also spoken to Robert."

Kid simply nodded.

"Thaddeus, where's Joshua?"

Kid stopped mid-bite, slightly taken back at the question he knew she would eventually ask. He had hoped that she would have forgotten, but knew too well that Heyes made an impression that was impossible to forget. Taking a larger than appropriate drink from the coffee mug, he tried to look her in the eyes, but instead, couldn't get any further than staring at the wall, just to her left. "He got a job in Texas; we're supposed to meet up in a couple of weeks."

With just the softest "Hmph," he knew immediately that he was no more believable than if he tried to sell her a gold mine in Oklahoma. She walked towards the large paned window that looked out across the back yard. "I seem to recall hearing that they finally caught the notorious outlaw, Hannibal Heyes."

"Did they?" Kid quickly finished his sandwich, taking great pains to focus on the plate he held in his hands.

"I immediately thought of Josh."

Kid walked to face her. "Joshua's fine. He can take care of himself." Kid tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but felt it as it crossed his lips, all the same.

"As can you."

A tense moment settled over them, each looking into the other's eyes, wanting to say more, but daring not to.

Breaking the moment, a knock echoed around the room. Without a word, she crossed to the door and opened it, Bridget stood just on the other side. "Jonas is here."

"And Robert?" Kid asked, as he walked up behind Michelle.

"Scared."

"Don't worry, it'll be over soon."

* * *

"Damnit Jack, how can you even ask me that?" Jonas roared as Kid and Michelle entered the room. He was a mountain of a man, nothing like that of his brother. He was tall, at least six and a half feet and almost as broad. Kid recognized the type. He was the kind that had never seen an easy days work, muscle and scars being the only lasting reminders of a life hard lived. He also knew that this was the type that tended to treat others the same way they had felt treated, taken advantage of and abused.

At the site of Kid, the man roared toward him, "You! You started this."

Half his size, Kid knew he was no physical match for the man, but also knew that it was less about physical threat and more about, what Heyes would call, the mind game. He didn't step back, not once letting the larger man see that his physical prowess posed any risk. Instead, he met the man a few steps in, his hands comfortably resting on his gun belt, a stance that he knew too well was more threatening than anything this man could offer. "All I did was bring Robert back." Kid knew the less he spoke the better. He was an easy target, someone from the outside, just coming in to cause trouble. No one had any reason to believe him.

"Yeah, well I'm not going to stand here and take this. Definitely not from some _westerner_." He spoke with a snarl. Grabbing his hat from the rack by the door, he pushed around Kid, "Jack, when you're ready to apologize, you let me know."

With a slam of the door, he left.

Outside, the large man pulled on the reins of his horse as he led the mare from the stable.

"Jonas!" Behind him, Michelle ran up to him.

He turned and with a sneer, asked, "What do you want? You comin' to accuse me of murdering my little girl too?"

She shook her head, "No, because we both know, she wasn't _your_ little girl."

His face went white, but with a shake, he recovered and gave a half-hearted laugh, "So, you knew what kind of whore your sister was too?"

"She made her mistakes, yes. But she didn't deserve to die either."

His nostrils flared with anger. "I didn't kill my wife!"

"I never said you did." She turned and stepped away from him. "If only we could find Mikey's diary. That would clear up everything."

With thunderous footfalls that made her jump, Jonas walked up behind her, "What diary?"

"Robert mentioned how she kept an old diary. Said she hid it in their special spot. Robert went to get it this morning. He should be back with it, anytime." She turned a stared up at the man that towered over her.

Shifting from one foot to the other, he tightened his grip on the reins. "You let me know when he has it, but if I were you, I wouldn't put much faith in the ramblings of a stupid little girl."

Without another word, he jumped on his horse and rode off.

* * *

The shed was dark, he hated being there, but it was Mikey's favorite place. She always said it was her place to hide. Personally, he thought it was more of a home for spiders and snakes than kids. But Mikey was never scared, when a critter would come too near, she would just chase after it, always reminding Robert that they were more afraid of her than she was of them.

Finding a flat rock protruding from the ground just outside the shed, he sat and began to read what he held in his hands. Tears flowed as he read the words on the page.

From behind him, he heard the click of the hammer. He hadn't spent a lot of time around guns, but that was one sound he didn't think anyone could mistake. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the man behind the gun. Taking a deep breath, he tried to muster some courage, but quickly felt it ebbing away.

"Uncle Jonas."

"You can go ahead and hand that over to me."

Robert looked at the tattered book in his hands. "This was Mikey's."

The man seethed, "I don't care if it was Mother Mary's herself, give it to me!"

Robert quickly tucked the book in his back waistband, "You hurt Mikey, you killed her because of what she told me."

"Look, you little… you give that to me, or else you just might meet the same fate, do you hear me?" The grown man made a lunge toward him, but with the speed only a child could possess, he ducked under the outstretched arm and ran towards a tree that stood as a shield between them.

"Why, why did you hurt her?"

Jonas walked slowly towards the boy, "Look, kid, you don't get it. Your little friend was no better than her good-for-nothing mother. If she had just kept her mouth shut…" He lunged again, "Now give me that damn book."

As Robert ran towards the shed, Jonas took aim. A shot rang out.

Grabbing his right arm, Jonas held it tightly, his shirt quickly becoming stained with blood. "Aargh!"

Looking up, he saw them come around the building: the Sheriff, Bridget, the westerner, and a down-trodden Jack. Both the Sheriff and the blond stranger had their guns at the ready. Making a desperate lunge, he reached for the gun that lay just out of reach.

Sheriff Willhouse pulled back the hammer on his gun, "Jonas, we can either let a jury decide your fate, or we can decide it right here, right now. I'll be honest; you might get a more lenient response from a jury." Grabbing the man roughly, he turned him around, pulling the injured arm behind him, tying his hands tightly. "Jonas O'Connor, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Mikey O'Connor."

Robert, his arms tight around his mother's waist, looked up towards Kid. "You did it. You really did it."

Kid knelt down, eye level to the boy, "No, you did."

Taking the book from his waist, Robert looked down at the cover, "I couldn't have done it, without them."

Kid glanced at the cover, his own name in bold black letters. "To be honest, I don't think even Kid Curry could have done better."

Looking up, Kid saw Jack watch sadly as his brother was escorted away with the Sheriff. Walking up behind him, he placed his hand on the saddened man's shoulder, "You can't stop other people from making mistakes and you can't always protect them, especially from themselves."

"He was my best-friend."

Kid nodded in understanding, "Those are the hardest to watch fall. But you've got a family, and they need you more."

With a glance back, he nodded solemnly.

* * *

 _From the ashes of their innocence, they stood and looked towards the road into town._

 _The dark haired boy ran his hand through his ruffled hair. "We need to go to the sheriff, let him know."_

" _I s'ppose."_

 _Slowly, together, they began their trek. Nearing the tree line, the blond eyes turned back, behind them stood a young girl. Her white dress and long dark hair drifted in the breeze, yet the leaves on the trees remained still. She slowly raised her hand and gave a slight wave._

 _Pulling on his friend's shoulder, he pointed back. "Who's that?"_

" _Who's what?" His friend turned; seeing no one._

 _The blond eyes turned from his friend, back to the road behind. "Where did she go? There was someone, right there."_

 _Now adults, Heyes put his hand on his friend's shoulder, "Kid, we've got a long way to go and this road is hard enough. If there's one thing our folks always said, it was, 'you can't walk forward if you're always looking back.' Come on."_

 _Giving it one last glance, he turned to continue his travel back down the road, only to find his friend ahead of him._

 _As he walked, he knew he couldn't catch up. But knowing they were on the same road, gave him the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other._

As Kid passed the master bedroom, through the crack in the door, he saw Jack sitting by the window, his head in his hands. Michelle walked up behind him, and placed one hand on his shoulder, startling him. Reaching up, she whispered in his ear. "He'll be alright. He has Bridget to lean on, when he's ready."

Tossing his saddle bag over his shoulder and with Michelle's arm wrapped around his, they continued their walk down the hallway. At the end, something caught his eye. To his right was a picture. It was a family of three, a mother, father, and a child. Faded, with a crease down the middle, Kid's eyes went to the woman. She wore a long white dress, her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a smile that wasn't real. He knew that, because he'd seen her real one. The one accompanied by laughter like none other. Lightly placing his hand on the image, he asked. "Cherie?"

Michelle gave him a quizzical look. "Tressa Cherie. How did you know?"

"When she left, where did she go?" He asked, knowing the answer, probably better than anyone else.

"I don't know; out west. All she ever said was that she met a man that would never be able to take care of her. Why?"

Kid could see her face, hear her laughter as she poured the drinks for the Devil's Hole boys. Then with a wink, she would signal towards the stairs, guiding him along the dark halls, pulling him into an embrace. She never took a dime, slapping him the one time he offered. Then, one day, she was gone. Both he and Heyes were disappointed; each had grown so accustomed to her. As they walked out of the saloon, Heyes had even remarked, _"Well, at least we won't have to flip a coin over her."_

" _Who's coin?"_ He had laughed.

The next week, she had been replaced, by a girl that demanded the customary price, and none of the warmth.

Kid's hand trailed down to the girl that stood in front of Cherie. Michelle lifted her own hand to meet his. "That was Mikey. She was named after me. But from the minute she could walk, she was getting into everything. Tressa said a boy name suited her better."

Kid stared for another minute at the girl. Her eyes haunted him. And there was something in her smile. It was a look that he had seen often, even though he couldn't put his finger on just where. As he etched her face into his memory, he was uncertain of exactly who she resembled.

Resigned to never knowing, he turned, and continued his way out of the house.

Outside the front door, Bridget stood with a small bag in her hand. Extending it, he felt the heat from within. "Something to get you through." As he took the bag, she quickly wrapped her arms around his shoulders, "Merci, merci." As she backed away, he caught a glimpse of the tears beginning to flow.

Outside, Kid saddled his horse just outside the barn. As he lowered the stirrup, Robert rounded the corner, a small book in his hands. "Mr. Jones, wait!" Approaching him, he held out the book. "I want you to have this."

Kid looked to the tattered book he held in his hands, _Heyes and Curry: Partners Forever._ An icy pain cut through his heart, _if only._ Robert wrapped himself around Kid's legs. Kneeling down, he hugged the child, trying to say in actions, what he could never say in words. "You listen to your ma and pa. Don't go looking for any outlaws, agreed?"

"Promise." The young child looked up to the older man and gave a smile, a smile that Kid hadn't seen grace his face since the moment he met him. Without another word, he turned and ran in the direction of his mother.

For a moment, Kid stood, just staring back at the vacant spot where the child had stood.

Michelle leaned in close. "His life revolved around Mikey, but he'll do fine on his own." She lightly touched the cover of the book. "Just like I'm sure Kid Curry will be fine without Hannibal Heyes."

Finding her dark eyes, Kid leaned down, placed a kiss on her soft lips, and lied. "I'm sure he will."

With a hug and one last look at the book, he placed it in his saddle bag, a final reminder of the way things once were. Tipping his hat to Michelle, he spurred his horse down the road, still unsure of the life that lay ahead.

* * *

Meanwhile….

In the Wyoming Territorial Prison, Heyes has a problem.


	3. Chapter 3

Like Lightning From the Sky

(Part 3 of 5)

* * *

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to the real Wyoming Territorial Prison, or the life that the inmates lived within its walls, is purely coincidental.

* * *

Wyoming Territorial Prison…

The night had stars, but from his cell, he could only see a few of the millions that he knew were out there. Even those that he could see remained obstructed by the iron bars that stood like sentries on the window. Taking a deep breath, he again resigned himself to never again realizing the beauty that such a sight offered.

It had been six months in prison. Six months of waking up every morning to do his job. Six months of breakfast that consisted of little more than hash and grits, a lunch that would barely satisfy a child and a dinner that wasn't much better. But they were meals, accepted gratefully. His cell was dreary, a small cage, barely as wide as he was tall. His cot creaked with each movement, his cellmate's even worse. All of the cots on the hall were that way, so a night did not go by that he didn't drift off to dream to the sound of metal screeching as each man tried to find his comfort spot.

If he were honest, prison wasn't quite as bad as he had imagined. But then, he got lucky. As he rolled onto the prison yard that first day, someone much more important was rolling out – the now-ex-warden. Heyes had barely been processed and given his uniform when a short man entered the holding cell. From first glance, Heyes knew the man was nervous. The man continued to push his spectacles back up on his nose, and would take his hands from his pockets only to return them there again. His tie was uncomfortable and he would loosen it, just to tighten it once more.

Heyes stood there, unsure of what to expect, taken aback at seeing someone within the prison walls so obviously bothered.

"Mr. Heyes…" The man would start. "Mr. Heyes, we have an unusual situation here, very unusual…" His hands went in his pockets, then out; then holding them together, as if the connection gave the man strength. "You see, Warden Jeffries has, uh…" He looked to the ceiling, searching for the words. "Well, he's decided to take a leave of absence."

Heyes was confused on why he was allowed to be privy to this information, but stood silent, nonetheless.

"You see, Mr. Heyes, Tom, I mean, Warden Jeffries has put us in a bit of a situation and I fear we need to ask you for help."

Heyes tilted his head in interest, but still chose to stay silent. He knew too well, that silence often brought a stronger advantage than all the words in the English language.

The man shook his head and turned to the man to his left, whose hands had remained clasped behind him. "Darnit Fred, isn't there another way?"

Fred looked down at the man, "Sam, it'll take two days to get a locksmith out here, and there's still no guarantee they will be able to open it. The telegraph from Sheriff Trevors stated that he could be trusted better than anyone else in here. After he gets it open, we will get it replaced, but we have got to get those keys."

Sam ran his hand through his hair and again pushed back his spectacles. "Fine, Mr. Heyes, we need your help."

He was led down the hall, two heavily armed men on each side of him, Sam and Fred led the way. They made a left, then a right. With every door or hallway they passed, Heyes made a mental note of everything he saw. The doors that held no locks, the hallways that had shadows from where the lamps couldn't light up the amount of space within. He wasn't sure why he was taking note of everything, perhaps it was just that old habits die hard, perhaps it was just that he had no freedom and this was the one way, the only way that he felt like he had any control.

The door was at the end of the hall, it was rustic, metal with a metal frame. Heyes glanced up at the top, a sliver of light shone through a crack at the top. It was uneven. Whether it was poor craftsmanship or age, he wasn't sure, but something had unleveled the door. He was amazed that he was the only one that noticed, but again, he would notice these types of things, it was this quality that made him the best. Or at least that is what once made him the best. As they entered the room, it was bright. Two large windows let in the sun; the room was cluttered. A desk with too many papers sat to one side, two wooden chairs perched in front of it; book cases lined two of the walls, filled with books from authors he had never heard about. Behind the desk, he saw it. A Brooker safe, A series; one of Brooker's first models. One of the first safes he had ever opened.

Sam leaned against the desk. "Mr. Heyes, we are about to ask you to do something that we would never imagine asking an inmate. The mere thought of this, quite frankly, turns my stomach. But we are in a desperate situation. As I said, Warden Jeffries has decided to… _pursue other interests_ ," He gave a knowing glance at the other man, Fred, and Heyes' could only imagine what those _interests_ could have been. "In his rush to leave, you see, he forgot to leave us the combination." Heyes tried to hide his amusement. "That is where we bring you in. We need those keys and we can't wait on the locksmith, so quite simply, you are our only hope." The man stood upright, "Now, mind you, we will be replacing this safe in a couple of days, so even if you were to memorize the combination, it won't do you no good. But we would be mighty appreciative if you could help us, this one time."

Heyes nodded, "Well, sir, I'd be glad to." The man started to turn around. "For a price." Heyes smiled a smile that he knew others hated, it was the smile that made no mistake - he had the upper hand.

"What price?"

Heyes shifted to one foot, "All the inmates have jobs, right?"

Sam slowly nodded, "Yes…"

"I want an easy one. Breaking rocks all day in the sun, just doesn't work for me."

Beet red in the face, Sam stormed to the door and turned around, "That's ludicrous. No inmate has ever walked into this prison and demanded what work detail he should or shouldn't get."

Heyes smiled again, "Perhaps, but you've also never asked an inmate to open up the warden's safe. Now, if you'd rather wait until that locksmith gets here, that's fine. But it takes a certain talent to open up a Broker without dynamite. I haven't met many men with it."

"Fine, fine. Would laundry duty suffice?"

Swallowing his smile, Heyes nodded, "That would be fine. Now, if you wouldn't mind?" Heyes held out his hands to the guards so that they could be untied.

Kneeling in front of the safe, he pressed his ear to the door. Listening to the soft sounds of the tumblers, for a moment Heyes drifted off back to the banks and trains, his partner at his back, as he once again opened a safe to find treasures inside.

He had forgotten just how distinct the A Series was. Its tumblers clicked with each turn, with a slight change when he had hit the right number, hearing it fall into place. The first number took him only one slow turn to find, but he didn't want it to seem too easy. So he turned the dial the other way and heard the second number also fall into place. On the third turn he went past it, by just a number or two; just enough so that he could pull the lever, feign frustration, and restart the process. Not wanting to betray his reputation, it was his third attempt that he let the third and final tumbler find its home and with all the confidence that he knew he deserved, pulled the lever to its final destination and swung the door open, revealing the safe's contents. Heyes leaned against the wall as Sam swept down and pulled a group of keys from within and quickly closed the door, as if in doing so Heyes would forget the combination – 12-8-45, someone's birthday, he was sure.

That was almost six months ago, and true to his word, Heyes had been given laundry duty. It was a job that he considered inane, but preferred over breaking rocks or any of the other more difficult labor. He spent his days folding the shirts and pants of both the guards and the men. After a month, he was even given the responsibility of taking the clothes to the storage closet where they were held until needed.

Once a day, the men were let out, behind the prison was a large yard, where they were able to congregate and mainly just breathe fresh air, something that was markedly missing inside the prison walls.

For now, the day was over, and after returning to his cell, he just hoped for one more day to be over; to get one more day closer to the one where he could leave and never look back.

As Heyes looked up through the small window in his cell, he caught a glimpse of the evasive moon just as it ducked behind a passing cloud. For a moment, he wondered where the Kid might be, would he be inside a saloon, its doors lighted by that same moon? Perhaps, instead, laughing as he walked a saloon girl up a flight of stairs. Or was he sleeping under the stars, staring up at the same wonder? Heyes hadn't let his thoughts turn to his former partner often. Just as he was sure his partner's hadn't turned to him. After a lifetime of having someone beside you, always there to lean on or to fight with, being alone was all but unbearable. The bars, the concrete walls, nothing could compare to the emptiness of just being alone.

As he turned back to the book he held in his hands, he went back over to his schedule for the coming week: sleep, breakfast, laundry duty, lunch, laundry duty, break in the yard, dinner, shower, sleep. It was the same thing, every day, every week. His only reprieve from the monotony came every couple of months. Word of his performance had reached the safe companies. At the approval of the newly appointed Warden, Sam Howard, Heyes was allowed to work with them. They would bring in their new models to let him inspect them, to sit and play with the tumblers and to ultimately attempt to crack its secrets. At the end, on the ones he thought worthy, they would declare they were "Heyes Proof." A seal of approval the engineers proudly stamped on the outside. Even the prison had purchased such a safe, replacing the new one. Silently, Heyes had chuckled, amused at the attention his little talent brought.

But no such request came this week; instead it was just more of the same. The same schedule that he would be facing for the next twenty years.

He turned the page in his book when he heard his name being called. It was his cell mate, Clyde, a man that was in prison for robbing a stage, a man that always looked for a reason to get Heyes' attention. The best Heyes could assume was that it was Clyde's own lack of success in the robbing world that made him so determined to bring him down. But what he held in bravado, he lacked in everything else. His short stature made him a weak bully. Added to that, without a gun to overcome his shortcomings, he would talk a big game, but would frighten if offered the opportunity to put actions behind his words. But for some reason, the men in the surrounding cells listened to him. And that was what made Heyes give the man attention, knowing that five on one was a losing battle, no matter how small the leader might be.

"I said, Heyes! You gone deaf or something?" Clyde yelled again over his cards as he played a round of poker with the men that sat in the adjacent cell.

Unmoved, Heyes lowered his book, "What do you need Clyde? Trying to win on a two pair again?"

Clyde reminded him a lot of Wheat Carlson, loud but easily distracted.

"I just want to know why the great Hannibal Heyes won't play a hand with us? You too good for us?" The men behind him laughed. When Heyes didn't respond quickly enough, he rose, standing just at the edge of Heyes' cot, "I asked, you too good for us?"

Placing the book to the side, Heyes rose and looked down at the little man. Glancing down the hallway, he noticed the guard at the end and spoke softly, "Do you really want to do this? You sure you want to spend the night in the hole?" With a nod, he glanced back down the hallway. Clyde turned to follow his glare. "Why don't you go back and say whatever you want to your friends. There's no reason for us both to lose a week in the yard, just for a fight you know you will lose." Heyes' eyes darkened and the man took a step back. The guard looked up, arms still tightly crossed across the chest, never once moving to intervene. Lying back on his cot, he heard the boys in the other cell congratulate Clyde on his _victorious_ encounter against the _great_ Hannibal Heyes. He didn't know what Clyde had said, nor did he care. All he cared about was getting through one more night. Getting one night closer till he could leave the cell, leave the men, leave the prison.

* * *

The following afternoon was no different than any other, he sat on one of the benches in the yard, contently reading as the other men walked about, also enjoying the brief moment in the sunshine. His enjoyment, however, was quickly curtailed as a shadow fell across the bench, blocking the sun from view. Looking up, it was Anthony Polk. Anthony was as big as Clyde was small. Each tried to control those around him, except Anthony could do it. His reputation had long preceded Heyes' welcome to the prison. He had once tried to join the Devil's Hole gang, but he was violent and unpredictable, two qualities that immediately rejected any candidate. It was for this reason that the gang showed no surprise a year later, when it was reported that Anthony had led a gang to rob a prominent family. In the chaos of the job shots were fired, killing a three year old. Because no one knew who fired the fatal bullet, each of the men were spared the noose and instead given life sentences.

Heyes looked up towards the man, "What do you want?"

The taller man continued to look out towards the horizon, "You know Heyes, I could help you out with Clyde."

"That's much appreciated, but I didn't realize I had a problem."

"You will soon. The boys are starting to give him a bit of a rough time about you. They say he ain't as tough as he talks. Bringing you down will help prove otherwise."

Heyes pursed his lips, "And what would this _help_ cost me?"

"Look Heyes, you're one of the smartest men in here, we both know that. We also know being stuck in these dog cages is getting old. So, I say we put our heads together, find a way out. I've been in here longer; I know more, more about what _really_ goes on. Stuff you don't know about. I know every weak spot in the place."

Heyes closed his book, keeping his forefinger in the spot that he was reading, "Is that so? By weak spots, I assume you mean the kitchen that has a direct exit to the stables, or the damaged gate just outside the entrance. Not to mention that there are at least three guards that are willing to look the other way for minor infractions, and then there's the one that you could probably buy off with a promise of a date with a saloon girl."

Anthony looked down, "So you do have a plan?"

Heyes stood and faced the man, "Believe it or not, Anthony, I just want to spend the next twenty years in peace. Besides, I don't travel with murderers." Heyes moved to walk away. Grabbing his arm, Anthony turned him back around. "Careful, the guard over there, the one by the door, isn't one to look away."

With a nod toward the suggested guard, he released Heyes' arm, only to scowl. "You'll change your mind Heyes, just pray I'm in a forgiving mood when you do."

Heyes breathed a sigh of relief, he was never a fighter, he always let Kid handle that, but once again he was reminded, Kid wasn't there and talkin' only took a fella so far.

Heyes heard the guard walk up behind him. "What was that all about?"

"Just wanted me to plan a jail break." Heyes laughed. Turning he looked into the green eyes of the guard. She was only one of two women that the prison employed. The other was the nurse. She stood at his height, strong build, but still feminine. Her cheekbones were high, her hair a deep red. She held Kid's stance, one hand never moving too far from the gun that protected her. She was fast. Even though he hadn't seen her draw, he knew she would be fast.

She looked down her nose, not amused. "Is that so? And do you plan to help him?"

"No ma'am, we're supposed to have chili for supper Friday night, can't miss that."

Without another word, she turned and walked back to the perch from which she came.

* * *

Wednesday night was his favorite night of the week. It was quiet. The warden, a religious man, had a man of faith come in every week. He would give mass and say a few words from the good book. Heyes, never having any serious leanings one way or the other, would instead opt-out and stay in his cell, reading.

As he sat in his solitude, he heard the door at the end of the hall open. Looking up, he saw her standing there. With one glance, she walked towards him, stopped just short of his cell and leaned against the bars. "Skipping again tonight? Good Lord might be slow to forgive if you keep this up."

Heyes put down his book, "If He isn't going to forgive me now, I don't see how me sitting in a room full of men is going to change His mind."

She motioned towards the book. "You're always reading."

Heyes shrugged. "Better than staring at the wall."

Sticking her hand through the cell bars, she motioned for the book. "Mind if I see it?"

Walking to the cell, Heyes handed her the book.

"I stand 'mid the roar

Of a weather-beaten shore

And I hold within my hand

Some particles of sand-

How few! and how they creep

Thro' my fingers to the deep!

My early hopes? No- they

Went gloriously away

Like lightning from the sky

At once- and so will I." She handed the book back, "Pretty deep."

Heyes shrugged as he resumed his spot on the cot, "Just something to read."

"Why are you here, Mr. Heyes?"

He didn't look up, "Robbed a bunch of banks and trains. Law didn't look too kindly on me for that."

"Why are you here, Mr. Heyes?" She asked again, undeterred.

Looking up, he attempted a smile, "Why are you here, Ms…?"

"Louise." She shrugged and looked down the hall. "Wanted to serve my country, but I couldn't do anything more than be a nurse. I knew someone that knew someone. That's why I'm here. Now that I've answered your question, you answer mine."

Heyes looked down, "Just made a mistake, that's all."

"What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you first came in, you watched everything. Every guard, every inmate, nothing passed without your notice." She laughed, "To be honest, a few of us had a bet on how long it would take for you to try to break out." Her smile faded, "But then it died?"

Confused, Heyes looked up, "What died?"

"The light. The fire you had when you first walked in. Now, you notice practically nothing. What happened?"

Heyes knew she was right, partially. He had stopped watching, stopped making his notes. But he still noticed some things, and they usually had to do with her. He motioned up towards his window, "That's what happened. It's been over six months since I've seen the moon without bars in front of it. I can remember wishing just for a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, and a regular meal. Now, a saddle for a pillow, and a rabbit on the fire would be worth more than all the money I ever stole. And I can't have it." Part of him wanted to add that what he wanted most was just to have a grumpy partner complaining about his coffee, at his side.

With a sad smile, she nodded, "Good night, Mr. Heyes." Turning, she walked back down the hall and left.

* * *

Another week passed; another week of hash and grits and laundry; another week of staring at the walls, at the bars, at a cloudy sky that hid any beauty that existed beyond its veil.

When she came through the door that Wednesday night Heyes felt himself smile. It had been so long since something gave him a reason to, it felt unfamiliar.

She stopped at the cell door and for a moment hesitated. Then pulling her gun out with her right hand, she opened the door with her left, the gun constantly trained on him. Confused, Heyes slowly rose, placing one hand on the bars just to his right. "We're going somewhere?"

She motioned out of the cell, "Just come on."

Complying, he made his way out, carefully glancing down at the piece. Six chamber revolver, ivory handles, shiny, well cared for.

"Just know, I'm a dead shot. I can pick off a snake before its second rattle and if you make one motion for it, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Heyes smiled again, "Oh, I believe you."

She took him through the hallway, down another to the right and then to the left. They were nearing the dinner hall, but turned just before they got there. It was the kitchen. Heyes had been in there once; when he had to deliver a set of aprons to the cook. Then came his surprise as she guided him to the door, the one that led outside. Motioning for him to step back, she pulled out a shiny key, one with a crooked edge and a notch on the top, and unlocked the door. Opening it, she stepped aside and motioned him out.

The night air was cool and crisp. Looking around, he saw the stable to his left and heard a soft neigh come from inside. To his right was the main entrance to the prison, lit by the lamps that stood by the doors. A fence with a jagged edge surrounded the yard. Then, nervous at what he wouldn't see, he slowly looked up. Just as he found it, the clouds parted and the full moon shone bright, no bars, no window, just that celestial orb, hanging free in the night.

Barely able to pull his eyes from the sight, he saw a streak, a shooting star, something he hadn't seen since he was a kid. Softly, with a crack in his voice, he spoke, "Star light, star bright." He couldn't go any further.

"I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight." She finished for him. "Is it like you remember?"

"Better."

"C'mon." Leading him towards the stables, Heyes saw a small cage just outside the main door. Inside was a large dog, probably a Labrador, surrounded by a litter of puppies. "Momma showed up a few weeks ago. Pups have been wearing her ragged, so we take turns giving her a walk." She pulled a strip of rawhide from a nail on the barn and tossed it to him.

Taking the leather, he opened the cage and gently reached in. The puppies ran to him, each jumping on his outstretched arm as he reached for the collar that was around the grown dog's neck. Pulling the momma out he had to keep the younger ones from escaping. As he closed the cage door, he whispered, "I don't like being in one either."

With the pistol, she directed him towards the front of the prison, "We usually just walk her around a couple of times."

Without further instruction, Heyes began to walk. He was surprised at how well the animal took to being on a lead, not once pulling on the leather, just gently walking; only occasionally stopping to take care of what she needed to take care of.

Mid-way through the first round, Louise broke the silence, "So, tell me Mr. Heyes, why are you here?"

Heyes took in a deep breath, "I thought I answered that."

"You said you made a mistake."

"You don't think robbing banks and trains would be considered a mistake?"

"You did that for years and were never caught. You weren't caught, Mr. Heyes, you turned yourself in. I just find it hard to believe that you would do so, willingly."

"Have you ever been on the run?" With a sarcastic look, she gave him her answer, "Don't suppose so. When you're on the run, you get shot at, a lot. Your friends get shot. You just get to the point you give up."

"I guess it's true what they say, you do have a silver tongue. Too bad I'm more of a gold type of girl."

Heyes stopped, "Fine, I made a mistake. A friend was hurt and I ended up shooting someone. I went against everything I said I would and I fired my gun. Is that better?" Tugging on the lead, he resumed his walk. "If I could go back I'd change it. I would have found another way. Hell, if I could go back, I would change everything. I would have never walked into Miller's Mercantile when I was a kid."

"Miller's Mercantile?"

Heyes turned around and looked into her eyes, "First place we ever robbed. Stole in, opened the safe and took a whole $200. I never looked back and there ain't no reason to start now." Behind him, another horse neighed. He closed his eyes.

She smiled, "Don't tell me you now wish to be on the back of a horse?"

With a smile, he asked, "Why are you here?"

"I thought I answered that?" She smirked, parroting him.

He walked up closer to her, still very aware of the gun that separated them. "Why are you here? Right now?"

Looking down, she glanced back up to meet his chocolate eyes. "I don't know."

* * *

He heard it coming. Felt it, before it hit. And yet, the blow still took him to his knees as another fist went deep into his gut. Looking across the yard, he made eye contact with Anthony, who smiled. He might not have been delivering the blows, but he had a hand in it nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, he reached around and grabbed the man behind him, laying a fist firmly into his side. He tried to block as many of the punches as he could and deliver just as many, but four on one, just wasn't fair. By the time the guards had surrounded the men at least two of his attackers were on the ground, heaving heavy breaths from the punches they had sustained. As soon as Heyes was lifted to his feet, darkness enveloped him and he blacked out.

When he came to, he was in the hospital. The room was bright from the sunlight that flooded through the windows. To his left he looked out through the bars, always bars, to the field that lie just beside the prison and saw a pair of horses grazing. He went to lift his arm, only to discover that both were strapped tight to the bed. Staring at the ceiling, he just sighed.

He heard a door open and close, looking up he saw Louise bent over talking to the nurse. With a soft gesture, the nurse left the room. To his left and right he noticed, they were the only ones there.

Louise walked to the side of the bed, her hands folded in front of her, "You put up a good fight. Two of the boys had to be transferred to the hospital over in Cheyenne; broken ribs."

Heyes tried not to smile, but couldn't resist.

"You're lucky, Janice says you just have cuts and bruises. The hit to your head was the worst that you sustained. You'll be back in your cell by the end of the day."

"Glad to hear it." Heyes spoke, sarcastically. "And the other men?"

"They've been given a week in the hole, and will then be on restricted privileges. Your cellmate, Clyde, is one of the ones you sent to the hospital."

Heyes smiled, again.

Louise brushed the hair out of his eyes, lightly touching the bandage over his right temple, "I'm glad you weren't hurt more."

"So am I."

With a smile, she left the room.

* * *

After word got out about the fight and the damage Heyes had inflicted upon two of his attackers, the other men gave him a new found respect. Several had even approached him, trying to form an alliance, looking for a new leader, but he wasn't ready that role. He wasn't sure if he ever would be.

But after the fight, the Wednesday night visits continued and Heyes quickly became accustomed to them. They would go outside, walk the dog, and just talk. It was the first real conversation that he had in months. She was intelligent and witty, and they conversed about worldly subjects and events; allowing him, for the briefest of moments, to forget where he was and more importantly, where he couldn't be.

On one such Wednesday, as soon as they stepped out of the door she stepped back in, back out of the heavy rain that was falling. With a smile as he stepped out, he pulled on her hand. "Do you know how much trouble I will be in if they discover that I brought you out here?"

He laughed as he took in the refreshing drops of water. "Do you know how long it's been since I've felt rain? If they find out, tell them I was disrespectful and you brought me out here as punishment."

She laughed, heartedly, "Fine, then get down and give me ten." She pointed towards the wet ground.

Heyes looked down and then back up at her. With a smirk, he lowered himself to the ground and did ten long pushups as she counted.

As he rose, he walked slowly up to her. "Now that I've given you what you want…" Snaking one arm around her small waist, he came inches from her lips.

"We're getting drenched in this rain."

"Will you melt?" He whispered, seductively.

"Absolutely. Sugar and spice and everything nice."

With an impish grin, he lowered himself further, lightly placing a kiss on her lips.

As he pulled away, she whispered, "I shouldn't be doing this."

"Neither should I." He leaned in again, taking her face in his hand, deepening the kiss.

From the stables, they heard a familiar neigh. Taking his hand in hers, she led him to the barn. With a key from her pocket, a shiny gold one that had the letter "s" engraved on the side, she opened the door, and with a quick look around, they ducked inside.

The stable was full of horses. Each stuck its head out, looking at who had just entered. To their left, there was a tall mare; she had a deep brown coat with a dark brown mane. Heyes patted the horse as it nuzzled itself underneath his arm.

Louise walked up behind him. "Her name is Nemesis; Greek goddess of Vengeance and Retaliation."

Heyes chuckled at the name, "Fitting name for a horse at a prison."

She motioned towards the other horses, "They are all named after Greek Gods." She pointed to the stallion across from them. "That one is Ares, to his left is Athena, and my favorite," she walked to the horse nearest the door, "is Aphrodite."

Heyes walked up to her and once again wrapped his arm around her waist. "Goddess of Love?"

She blushed as she looked down. "She's a good horse." A clasp of thunder shook the stable; Louise jumped. "I hate thunderstorms. Rain is one thing, storms are something else."

Heyes whispered, "I'll protect you."

Stepping away from him, she kept her hand on his chest. "That's just it. You can't." Turning back to the door, she opened it, "We should go back, now."

* * *

A few days later, as he meticulously folded uniforms, he heard his name called. Turning, Louise stood in the doorway of the laundry room. "You have a visitor, follow me."

Laying down the half-folded pants, he followed her out and down the hall to where he knew the visitation rooms were. With each step, his heart beat a little bit faster, hoping against hope about who might be there to see him, knowing better, knowing there was no chance.

She slowly opened the door, his smile faded for just a moment as he saw on the other end of the darkly lit room his friend, Lom Trevors. Regaining a smile, he greeted his old friend with a firm hand shake. "Lom, good to see you."

"Sorry it's been awhile, been busy." Lom took off his hat and placed it on the table that sat in the middle of the room. It was the only piece of furniture, surrounded by four chairs, two on each side. Lom sat in one, Heyes the other. With a nod from Lom, Louise quietly left, but as the door closed, Heyes heard a familiar sound, the sound of a lock sliding firmly in place.

"Thanks for comin'." Heyes spoke, sincerely.

"I would'a come sooner, but Devil's Hole is keeping me and my deputy busy. They've hit the bank twice and have stopped at least four trains on their way in to Porterville. Thing is, they ain't stole more than $5,000 all together, seems they're more hell-bent on making Porterville pay for you being in here."

Heyes looked down at the table. "Wish I could help you out Lom, but I can't get word in to the boys."

Lom leaned back in his chair. "I know you would if you could. Perhaps in time they'll move on. So how are you doing? I heard about what happened last month."

Heyes winced at the memory. "Nothing I can't take care of, I'll be fine."

"You've been getting the books I've been sending, right?"

"Yeah, really appreciate them." He stopped to take a breath. "Lom, any word on Kid, his amnesty?"

"Not yet. The Governor is taking a lot of heat about Devil's Hole. He probably won't move on the amnesty until that stops. But I came here for another reason. The Governor heard about you helping out when you first got in here and all the help you've been giving to Brooker and Pierce and Hamilton."

"And?" Heyes was intrigued.

"Well, he's also been catching a lot of heat from his budget office. Seems us sheriffs have been doing our jobs just a bit too well, as a result the prison is growing overcrowded and over budget."

"How does that involve me?"

"Well, he wants to make you an offer. He's willing to accept a partial sentence. You would be released and you'd have to stay out of trouble, with just the occasional check-ins with a Sheriff. You wouldn't be completely free, but a lot freer than you are today."

Heyes' eyes lit up. "That's great, let's do it then."

Lom smiled, "Great. Now like I said, you would still have to serve part of your sentence. Governor feels one-fourth would be about appropriate."

Heyes' smile faded, "One-fourth. That's five years."

Lom nodded, agreeing with the calculation. "Yes, five years, four and a half to go. But it sure beats twenty."

Heyes stood and walked to the back wall, leaning against it. "What about my amnesty?"

"You won't need it; with this you'll be free."

"In five years."

"Four and a half."

"Same thing. Lom, I went straight, I did everything the Governor asked."

Lom stood and walked to face his friend. "Everything but not shoot a man of the law, or have you forgotten that?"

"I made a mistake. One mistake"

"One is all it takes, Heyes."

Heyes ran his hand through his hair. Pacing the room once, he turned back, "What if we can forget what happened in Rock Springs? What if we can forget…?"

"We can't."

"But what if we could?"

"Heyes, you're in prison and this offer is the best you're going to get."

"What if wasn't, what if…?"

Astounded, "Heyes, I don't know what you're thinking, but you better stop thinking it now."

"I'm not thinking anything."

"Good. Cause, right now you have it about as good as you will ever get. Sit tight, and wait for the five years to pass."

Heyes half-heartedly laughed, "Sit tight? You don't have any idea what's it's like to be in here."

"No Heyes, I don't."

"But you deserve this just as much as I do. You robbed banks; you took money that wasn't yours."

Lom stormed to the table and grabbed his hat. "This conversation is over Heyes, we're not going to go down my list of crimes. I got lucky and was given a second chance; the same chance that your partner is getting right now. I hate it that you had to actually pay for your sins, but you can't just blame me because I didn't have to."

"Fine, what about the Kid, where is he?"

Lom sighed, "I have no idea. I haven't heard from or about him since you came in here. I don't imagine he wants to be found."

Heyes nodded, "Good."

"Why is that good?"

"No reason." Heyes knew Lom could see through the smile that he offered.

"Heyes…"

Heyes put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "Look Lom, I'm sorry about what I said. Just go back to Porterville. I'll be fine. You know me."

"Exactly Heyes, I know you and **that's** what worries me."

As Heyes was ushered back into his cell, he glanced back up to the window. There was the moon, shining bright, with no clouds to cover it. The weeks of staring up through that window, always having the view obstructed had taken away the "fire," as Louise put it. But seeing it up there all those nights, with nothing in its way, relit that fire and he just wasn't sure how many more days he could handle being locked in a cage. Kid was God-knows-where, and the law knew it. The law knew that they had no contact with the each other since he had come in. Kid's amnesty was safe. His only reservation was the betrayal he would have to make. As he lay on his cot he tried to find that inner answer, could he do what it took? Could he betray someone that he was beginning to care about? With a glance back at the moon, his question was answered, for his own survival, he didn't have a choice.

* * *

She had been avoiding him; ever since that night in the rain; ever since the kiss. However, he couldn't let that deter him. He had already started to put his plan in motion, started making his mental notes, sneaking the little things he would need. Making sure she wasn't around when he did it. She would notice, she would see through him and he couldn't risk that, especially considering how vital she was to the success of his plan.

As the days passed, he slowly put it all together; exactly what he would need to do. He needed as much time as he could get, so he planned on Christmas Eve. After subtly asking around, he found out that the prison would be offering Christmas mass, one that would surely take longer than the usual Wednesday mass. It would give him added time. But for it to work, he had to get back to her; had to make sure that she would be there.

One week before, he decided to make his move. As they were finishing dinner, he looked up. Across the room, she stood with a pair of other guards, chatting as they watched over their charges. Getting up from the table, he clenched his fist at his stomach and walked over to the trio. As he approached, all three responded by standing up straighter. "Excuse me." He tried to feign a pained expression. "Dinner isn't sitting too well, would it be alright if I went back a little early?"

They looked between themselves and shrugged. The man on the far left asked, "You need to go to the nurse?"

"No, no, just need to lie down."

"Louise, you think you can take him back?"

She glared at Heyes, questioningly, "Yeah, I can do that." With her revolver brandished, she ushered him towards the door and out into the hallway.

As she guided him towards his cell, he noticed how tense she was. She kept a firm hand on her gun, her shoulders back, and her head up. At the cell, he stopped, blocking her from putting the key in the hole to open the door.

She sighed, "Mr. Heyes, you need to move to the side."

He turned and looked in her eyes. "You've been avoiding me."

She closed her eyes. "Mr. Heyes, you need to move to the side."

A tense moment passed. Slowly, he moved to his left and let her unlock the door. Not walking in, instead, he stepped closer to her. "What are you afraid of?"

"Mr. Heyes, what happened was a mistake."

"Was it?"

Her breathing became faster. "I could lose my job. I could lose my career, for what? A man that is going to be behind bars for the next twenty years?"

"How are you going forget?"

"I'll find a way."

"I don't believe you; I don't think you'll ever forget this…" Taking her around the waist, he pressed his lips against hers. As he pulled away, he whispered, "I know I won't."

Walking into the cell, he pulled the door closed and watched as she turned and left down the hallway. With a slight smile, but with a cut to the heart, he knew, with her one glance back, that his plan would work.

* * *

As the week passed, pangs of guilt ate at his conscience. With each glance her way, he doubted his ability to follow through with his plan, but then he would return to his cell at night. One glance up at the window, where the moon refused to shine in, would make him more determined to follow through. He couldn't live in a cage, not anymore, not after tasting those brief moments of free air, not after tasting her.

At dinner on Christmas Eve, he was ready. As he walked across the cafeteria, he bumped into another inmate, spilling his food on the floor. "Hey watch where you're going!" The smaller man yelled.

Not backing down, Heyes stepped closer to the man, not saying a word, waiting.

With anticipated reaction, the man threw a punch which Heyes easily deflected and with a shove, sent the man flying into a nearby table. Grabbing him by the collar, he picked the man up and threw him to the floor.

Quickly surrounded, three guards pinned Heyes' arms tightly behind his back, escorting him out of the room. As he passed the doorway, he made eye contact with Louise, who stood with her gun drawn facing the restless crowd. He gave a slight smile, one that only she would notice, as they led him out.

Opening the door into the darkness, they threw him in the room. He had heard about the hole. Over the past month he had asked around, finding out everything he could, preparing himself. The inmates often referred to it as "hell." At first, even he had been a bit intimidated, but then he realized, it wasn't much different than what he had been through for the past six months.

It was completely dark; he felt along the walls, he knew there would be a single lantern, somewhere along one wall. The walls were rough, hard concrete never smoothed by the builders. As he shuffled along the second wall he found it, the lantern with a wick barely sticking out of the top. Reaching in his shoe, he pulled out the match that he had won in a poker game the week before. For so long, he had been amused at what the inmates gambled for within the walls of the prison, but as he had made his plans, a new understanding of wants and needs came to him. As he struck the match and the light from the flame flickered across the walls, he took note of the oil in the lantern. About half full; it was just enough to get him through the night; just what he needed.

The room was small, even smaller than his cell. The cot was filthy, tattered rags covered the mattress. The floor was dirty, in one corner sat a bucket; he shuddered at the idea of that being his only option if the need came. Across from the cot was the door. He examined it, carefully. It was metal, with a metal frame. With a light tap, he could tell that it was thick and heavy. In the middle of the door was an opening. That would be where the guards would slide through the inmates' meals. He walked to the cot and lifted his shirt. Untying the knot just below his arm, he began to unravel the cloth that was tightly woven around his chest, revealing a long string that he then ripped into several smaller strands. From within his shoe, he pulled out three small metallic pieces. They weren't exactly the quality that he had with his regular set of picks, but he felt confident they would work if needed. He lifted the mattress to the cot, seeing if any of the springs would do a better job, but just as expected, the cots in the hole were even more neglected than the ones in his cell, the ones he held in his hand would have to do.

He sat and leaned against the wall. It was quiet. That was what all the men had complained about; the silence. They said it would drive you mad within the hour. Not a sound, not a voice, not a squeak, not even a mouse scurrying, just silence. He was alone. But he had an advantage over the other men; he had been alone for over half a year, what were a few more hours to add to it?

As he went over his plan, he tried to track the time, but that was one thing even he could not do. Time seemed to stand still. He knew Christmas mass would start at 7, but as each moment passed, it felt like an eternity, and before he realized it, he was unsure exactly how much time had gone by. One hour or six, he just couldn't tell. To take his mind off of it, he started to pace, he always did that when he and the Kid were in jail. It kept his mind active, moving. It gave him a sense of doing something, even if it was nothing more that wearing a path in the concrete floor.

As he stopped and leaned against the wall just to the right of the door, he heard it. It was the sound of a key going in the lock, the lock sliding out of its entrapment, and the door slowly opening. As the light from the hallway spilled into the room with a svelte shadow, he braced his hand against the wall.

"Mr. Heyes?" She stepped into the room, her gun drawn.

At the sound of her voice, he smiled.

"Yes?"

She jumped as she looked to her left. Gripping her chest in surprise, she gave a half-smile. "You startled me."

"Did I?"

She leaned up against the door, holding it slightly ajar, staring at him intently. "What happened? Why are you in here?"

He smiled, "Why do you think?"

She blushed and holstered her gun. "You have been a model inmate ever since you arrived. You have tried to avoid every scuffle that has come across your path. Today, of all days, you decided to start a fight."

Heyes shrugged, "Perhaps I got tired of avoiding the inevitable. It didn't do me any favors with Clyde."

"Except, I don't think you could ever really hurt anyone. This was what you wanted all along, to be in here. Why?"

"Like I said, why do you think?" Taking her face in his hand, he leaned down and placed a light kiss.

"I told you, I can't do this."

Holding the door slightly open with his foot, he tore at the sleeve of his shirt. Taking the cloth, he jammed it in the hole that the lock would slide into. Letting the door close, he felt the lack of resistance, a sure sign that the lock did not find its home.

"No one has to know." He came down with another kiss.

Without releasing her, he gently led her to the cot. Sitting on the edge, he could sense her defenses falling. Leaning over him, she came down with a passion that he knew ran just beneath the surface. He pulled her on top of him, and felt the heat of her body. His hands tightened around her waist, the touch of her feminine curves overwhelmed his senses. Tugging on her belt, he loosed the leather from around her waist, gently placing it on the floor to his right. For a moment, as the kiss deepened, he forgot his plan, so enamored at the feel of a woman within his grasp. As her kisses traveled to his ear, he looked up at the ceiling, up at the filth and the dirt. He closed his eyes, and fought one last battle between what he knew was wrong and what was unforgivable. Steeling his heart against the truth that he wanted to ignore, he let his hand travel down, over the cold steel of the cot, towards the ground. He felt the leather, then the bluntness of the handle, the ivory handles so well cared for. With a slight tug, he released the revolver from its confines and gave a soft moan to cover the sound of the metal scraping against the leather as he slowly pulled it from the holster. The feel of the gun within his hand was heavy, odd in a hand that had been empty for so long. With a deep swallow, he pulled the hammer back as the unmistakable sound reverberated within the room.

As Louise looked down the barrel of the gun, understanding came to her in waves. For the first time, Heyes saw nervousness and fear within her eyes, and he quietly cursed himself for being the cause of it. The words caught in his throat as he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She rose, sitting on the end of the cot, staring, unbelieving at the gun pointed towards her. "You planned this, all along."

Heyes shook his head slightly, "No. I've just realized that I can't spend the next twenty years caged like that dog, only allowed to walk when someone else decides to let me out."

He saw a tear come to her eye as she took a deep breath to keep it at bay. "So, what? You're going to use me to get out, a hostage? They'll shoot you down. You won't get out the gate alive."

Heyes knelt and felt underneath the cot. With a tug, he pulled out the strips of cloth. "I've never taken a hostage in my life. I don't plan on starting now." Taking the strips, he gently tossed them to her side.

"What am I supposed to do with these?"

"Take one set; tie your ankles to the leg of the cot. Make the knots good." Unable to look her in the eye, he reached in his boot and pulled out the picks and quickly shoved them in his pocket.

With angry jerks, she did as she was told, once finished, she looked up. "Anything else?"

"Put your hands behind you." He walked towards her, placing the gun in the waist of his pants, he pulled her hands back, trying not to notice the delicateness of her fingers. Taking another strip, he tied them; she winced and let out a squeak as they were tightened. For a moment longer than he knew he should, he held her hand within his. The rest of the strips he picked up and placed back in his pocket, just in case they were needed later. Then with his head low, he pulled her keys from her left pocket, trying to ignore to feel of her body, and then walked towards the door.

"You're doing it again." He stopped. "You're making another mistake. Except this one you can change. You can stop, right here, right now." A moment of silence passed. "You don't want to do this. You've spent your life running from one mistake after another, for once, make the right decision. Mr. Heyes, you can undo this, but only if you turn around, now."

Taking a deep breath, he turned; he wanted to do as she asked. Even more so, he wanted to take her with him, but knew that turning her into an outlaw would be an even bigger mistake, one that he wouldn't be able to live with. Walking towards her, he retook her hands within his and loosened the strips. The knot would still hold long enough for him to get out, but at least she would eventually be able to work her way loose. As he stood, he spoke softly, "Tell them I pretended to be sick and over powered you."

As he stood up, he saw a change in her eyes. Her breathing became rapid, "I'll find you." For a moment, he stopped. "If you do this, if you leave me here, and by some miracle make it out of these walls alive, I swear to God, I will find you." Her anger was unmistakable and sent a chill down his spine.

Not looking back, he walked to the door and opened it. Removing the cloth from the hole, he walked out, letting the door softly close behind him. With the unmistakable sound of a lock sliding in place, he knew the damage was done and there was only one way forward.

* * *

The halls were blissfully empty. With the gun in hand, he quickly crept down the quiet corridors, staying to the shadows. Down one hall he went, to the door at the end. He quickly looked through the keys on the ring, he was missing the right one, it was a small key, its end came to a point, and it was the one he needed to open the closet door. Taking the picks from his pocket, he knelt down, quickly inserting them, moving them, and trying to regain that talent that he had so long ago. For a moment, fear struck him, had he forgotten how to open a simple lock? Sweat started to form on his brow when, finally, he heard the release and he was able to turn the knob without resistance. Stepping into the walk-in closet, he reached down to the second shelf, where he had secretly placed a uniform that was just his size. Quickly undressing, he changed into the guard's uniform and transferred the contents of one pocket to the other.

Peering out the closet, the hall was still empty as he continued his trek to freedom.

As he approached his next stop, his anxiety increased. He would have to use the picks again; there would be no reason for a guard to have the key to this lock, so there was no point in even trying the ones in his pocket. Looking at the door, there was no light coming from within. He breathed a sigh of relief, even though he knew the warden would be in the chapel, the thought had crossed his mind.

The door was heavy; the lock would be going into the slot at an angle. Placing the toe of his boot underneath the lip of the door, he tried to pull it up, just a little, just enough to give the lock more freedom to move. With the picks in the lock, he manipulated it, twisting and turning, hoping that the small pieces of metal wouldn't break. Then, he heard the scratch of metal against metal, the lock reluctantly sliding out. Opening the door, the room was barely lit by the moon outside. Behind the desk was the safe. The new Brooker series, and on the top right hand corner was the proud stamp – "Heyes Proof." He knelt in front of it. Putting his ear to the door, he strained to hear even the faintest sound of a tumbler looking for its home. But even with the utter silence of the room, his ears could not pick out a single sound. It was on to plan B, he knew the safe had been specially ordered, he knew they weren't going to take the same chance they did before. They weren't going to risk having a safe they couldn't get into. He also had found out, through careful conversations, the dates that were important to the warden. He knew his birthday, wedding anniversary, even his anniversary date with the government. As he placed his ear again to the door, he slowly turned to the numerical month. If he could just hear it…

On the third try, the warden's birthday, he heard the faint sound, so subtle that it was almost unperceivable. He turned it again, to the day, then the year. With each one, the sound was so soft that he wasn't even sure if it really happened, or if he was just hoping. Slowly pulling on the lever, he felt it give, felt the lock slide out of place. He could barely contain himself as he swung the door open and reached in, to find the mass of keys, the ones he knew he would need. Closing the door tightly, his hand lightly brushed the stamp, he had outdone himself after all, he had just needed the right motivation.

Exiting the Warden's office, he breathed a little easier, but he still wasn't out, not yet.

Making his way down the familiar corridors, his heart raced with each step closer, closer to the door that would get him outside, would take him to freedom.

But as he opened the kitchen door, he froze. Sitting at the table to his right was a guard. This one was new; Heyes had yet to have contact with him. Looking up from the bowl of soup he was eating, he gave a slight wave. "Oh, hey. I thought everyone was down at the chapel? Just made a pot of chicken almond soup, feel free grab a bowl."

Heyes cautiously made his way over to the counter that held a vat of hot white soup, the smell was amazing and his stomach grumbled. From the hallway, he heard yelling. The guard at the table stood up quickly and walked towards the noise.

"I wonder what that's about?"

In two strides, Heyes came up behind the man, pressing the revolver into his side. "That would be about me." Pulling him to his right, he dragged the man in the storage closet, where the aprons were kept. With quickness, he gagged and tied him. Sitting him on the floor, he knelt down and tapped his knee, "Now don't be stupid and try to come out of here, you understand?"

The frightened man nodded yes.

Cautiously stepping out of the closet, he walked to the kitchen door; quickly turning the lock, hoping it would at least slow down the approaching men. At the exit, he rifled through the set of keys, searching for the shiny one, the one with the crooked edge and the notch on the top. Finally finding it, he opened the door and stepped out into the cold air. Pulling the door closed, he looked around, thankful that there was no one in sight. Running to the stables, his heart pounded with each step. In the moon light, he again found the key he needed, the shiny gold one with the "s" engraved. His hands shook as he put it in the lock and swung open the door. Inside, he grabbed a saddle and blanket. To his left, Nemesis stuck her head out, quietly waiting. Opening the stall gate, he threw the blanket on her back, then the saddle. Once secured, he pulled the horse to the door and led her out. Barely able to mount her, the door to the kitchen swung open and a man stepped out. "There he his!" He yelled as he fired his weapon, the bullet barely missing its target.

"Heeaww!" Heyes yelled as he buried his heels into the horse's side, aiming her for the back fence, the one barely visible from the prison, the one with the damaged gate.

He heard the men scrambling behind him, firing their guns. Heyes leaned tight against the horse, trying to make as small a target as he possible. Rounding a line of trees, he saw the gate and jumped off the horse. He grabbed the lock on the gate, looking at the key hole, it was small. Pulling out the Warden's keys, he went through each small key, trying each one, but the lock would not give. Glancing back towards the prison, he heard the commotion, the men were on horseback, they were getting closer, and his time was running out.

Trying the final key, he couldn't believe it when the lock finally gave way. Opening the gate wide, he jumped back on the horse as he heard the whistle of a bullet whiz by, way too close. Not looking back, he spurred his horse on, hoping that he could somehow just gain enough ground before a bullet found its mark.

Through the woods he pushed on and slowly the sounds of the gun shots faded. He had done it. Slowing his horse, he breathed deep, the first real breath he had in hours. Scanning the moon lit trail behind him, he could see no one. He smiled. But he knew his ride was far from over.

* * *

As the sun slowly started to rise over the horizon, he stretched his legs near the river bank. Scooping up the cold water, he splashed it on his face, in part to help reawaken him, in part to help convince him that it was real, he was out, he was free. Looking up at the sky, the moon was still there, it had been there all night, like a friend, never leaving his side.

A friend at his side.

Looking east, he thought about his partner. Finding him would be difficult, but he knew it wasn't impossible. After that, he would then have to come up with a plan to somehow find his way back into the Governor's good graces. His conscience gnawed at him about Louise, dealing with that would be after, after he repaired things with Governor. But first, he would have to find the Kid.

As he walked back to the horse that was lazily drinking from the river bank, he again looked up. In the sky he saw another streak, another shooting star, with a smile he whispered, "Star light, star bright."

Mounting the horse, he turned the steed eastward, towards the sun, towards tomorrow. Once again, he decided to not look back, at least not yet.

* * *

Poem written by Edgar Allan Poe in 1829

To — —

1  
Should my early life seem,  
[As well it might,] a dream —  
Yet I build no faith upon  
The king Napoleon —  
I look not up afar  
For my destiny in a star:

2  
In parting from you now  
Thus much I will avow —  
There are beings, and have been  
Whom my spirit had not seen  
Had I let them pass me by  
With a dreaming eye—  
If my peace hath fled away  
In a night — or in a day —  
In a vision — or in none —  
Is it therefore the less gone? —

3  
I am standing 'mid the roar  
Of a weather-beaten shore,  
And I hold within my hand  
Some particles of sand —  
How few! and how they creep  
Thro' my fingers to the deep!  
My early hopes? no — they  
Went gloriously away,  
Like lightning from the sky  
At once — and so will I.

4  
So young? ah! no— not now—  
Thou hast not seen my brow,  
But they tell thee I am proud —  
They lie — they lie aloud —  
My bosom beats with shame  
At the paltriness of name  
With which they dare combine  
A feeling such as mine —  
Nor Stoic? I am not:  
In the terror of my lot  
I laugh to think how poor  
That pleasure "to endure!"  
What! shade of Zeno!— I!  
Endure! — no — no — defy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Like Lightning From The Sky**

(Part 4 of 5)

The wind blew bitter and cold as Heyes quickly entered the abandoned shack, slamming the door behind him. Outside, there was a loud whistle from the wind as the trees swayed to and fro. Placing a rickety chair underneath the handle of the door, Heyes felt confident that it would help keep both the wind and any unwanted passerby outside of the cabin that he was temporarily calling home. He didn't plan on staying there long, just until the winter storm passed, just until it was safe for him to travel with the few supplies that he possessed.

The horse was safe, he had just checked. Whoever had once owned the shack had also built a small barn. It wasn't in the best condition, but he felt sure that the animal would fare a better chance there than out in the wind. As Heyes looked around the room, he had to admit it wasn't exactly the Brown Palace, but it would do, at least for now.

As he stoked the kindling in the fireplace, he tried to warm his hands. They were cold to the bone and his left one remained bandaged from the wound that was inflicted a few hours before.

The past week had been rough, but he was still out, still free, and that made it all worth it. Glancing out the shattered window, he thought back to what he had endured since leaving the Wyoming Territorial Prison.

On the first day he got lucky. Near the prison, he found a small house, on the back lawn hung a clothes line. He didn't want to do it but he was desperate. The wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped. The uniform the guards wore was thin, too thin to survive even a single winter night and there, on that line, hung a large flannel shirt. He was sure it would fit; sure it would help provide some protection. So as soon as he thought it was safe, he cautiously entered the yard and grabbed it from the line. Just as he had hoped, it fit, snug and warm. With the uniform underneath, it helped create a vital barrier against the wind.

It was another two days, another two nights of frigid cold, of huddling beneath underbrush to stay warm, until he stumbled upon the shack. Cautiously entering, he smiled at the sight of the obvious abandonment. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, the windows were either cracked down the center, or broken outright. A few pieces of furniture, a couple of chairs and a small table, lay haphazardly in the room. On the back wall was a long dusty counter with a rusted out wood stove in the middle. The cabinets were bare, not a single can of food could be found, however, one cabinet held the sweetest of gifts - two glass jugs. Both were empty and dirty, one was intact, the other had the bottom broken out. Taking the good one to the local stream, he cleaned it and smiled as he realized it would hold water. As he stood beside the stream he looked up, blowing in the wind he saw whiffs of white, the first sign of snow; pure, unadulterated snow. At the shack, he pulled a metal bin from off of the porch and placed it out in an open area. It would catch the snow, and then, with the jug, he would have clean water.

His stomach grumbled; it had been two days since he had a meal that consisted of more than a few fruits and berries. As his hands shook from the cold, he knew he needed something, without food he would grow weak, without food, he wouldn't survive.

With the gun in hand, he made his way back out into the woods. Treading softly, he searched for any animal that he could place on a fire. It took a while, but he finally crept upon a rabbit. Its white hair blended in with the snow that was falling heavy and fast. As Heyes walked closer, its ears perked up, its eyes darting here and there, its pink nose twitched. Taking aim, he held the gun in one hand as he steadied it with the other. As the shot rang out, he watched as the uninjured animal quickly hopped away. He checked the chamber, just five more bullets. He had never claimed to have Kid's speed or skill, but to be unable to kill a rabbit at 20 paces just didn't seem right.

As the sun continued its slow descent, he found another rabbit, this one larger, meatier. Bracing his hand against a fallen log, he took aim. Taking a deep breath, he quietly commanded himself to relax. As he slowly exhaled, he pulled the trigger and watched as the bullet hit its mark. The hare tried to move, but slowly lowered its head to the cold ground, breathing its last.

Inside the shack, he had no knife, no proper utensil to skin the animal. Instead, he took a shard from the broken jug and slowly worked to prepare his meal. It wasn't the most efficient or effective way to prepare the animal, but he had no other option. As he started his assault on the last bit, he slipped and the sharp edge of the glass buried itself deep into his left hand. With a yell, he grabbed it and held it close to his chest. Ripping the bottom part of his undershirt, he tightly wrapped it around his hand, trying to staunch the flow. His hand shook as it throbbed from the pain. _A partner would come in handy right about now,_ he thought to himself. But then he remembered he didn't have a partner, not yet. The only way he was going to find his partner again was to survive. Even as it continued to bleed, he finished his work on the rabbit and placed it on the fire. Food, soon enough, he would have food.

Unraveling the bandage, he inspected the wound; it was deep and still bled profusely, soaking through the cloth. He had to get that to stop. He had to clean it and keep it from getting infected. However, he had no alcohol, no sterile cloth, nothing he could really use as a medical tool. He had to make do with what he had. So, he stepped outside, enough snow had fallen that he was able to scoop some up and pack it into the jug. He then placed it beside the fire to melt. Unable to stop himself, he took a drink, the water was still cool to the touch and felt like heaven on his tongue. Without another alternative, he took off the guard's shirt. Tearing it into pieces, he prepared himself for what he knew was going to come next. Taking the water from the jug, he poured it on the wound and then worked to clean it, making sure no dirt was left. Opening up the revolver, he took a bullet from the chamber and with one hit of a log, opened up the casing, releasing the gun powder that it contained within.

He dreaded what he was going to have to do, he knew too well the pain of it, but also knew the risk. He couldn't risk it continuing to bleed, he couldn't risk passing out. _Survive, just survive_ , he kept telling himself. Pouring a small amount of the powder into the wound, he lit one of his last remaining matches and placed it up against his palm.

His scream reverberated across the woods, the sound of an injured animal. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as he gripped his hand close to his chest. Breathing hard, he tried to maintain control, tried to maintain conscious through the pain. Using the sleeve of the guard's uniform, he shook as he tightened it around his hand, a makeshift bandage. Once secured, he sat in front of the fire, shaking, but not from the cold. Again, he looked up; the trees rustled in the night, the snow blew past and occasionally in the window. He was still free, he reminded himself. And freedom was the one thing that always came with a price. As he thought to one of his grade school teachers, he recalled, that of all the things in the world, freedom was the most expensive. The human spirit could survive anything, if it just meant freedom. Even though his hand still throbbed, he knew it was a small price and he would gladly pay it just to be free.

* * *

The next morning was sunny, bright, and warmer. Through the night he had been able to gain enough snow to get through several days of carefully rationed water. As the sun came through the trees, it melted the ice, turning the ground to mush; a thin layer of snow still remained within the shadows. It was beautiful, he had to admit.

It had been a year since he had traveled this part of Wyoming, but he knew that close by there was a small town, a town that sat just this side of the Nebraska border. He wasn't sure why he rode towards Nebraska, he and the Kid never had any special interest in the area, but there was something about it, something that told him to go that way. He just knew Kid would avoid their old routes, avoid anything familiar. Kid would try to forget, he would want to be somewhere new, somewhere that he didn't have to worry about anyone recognizing him. Most importantly, Heyes knew that the Kid wouldn't even want to recognize himself. He'd travel to where he could hide, become someone else, distance himself so far from the past that he might not find his way back. He knew this, because that was what they did when they left Valparaiso. They ran, hard and fast, until they became two people that their family would have never recognized, they became two people that, for a while, were strangers in the mirror.

As he approached the town, he ran his hand down his face, feeling the growing stubble that was an unfortunate consequence of being on the run. His shirt had grown dirty and blood still stained the legs of his pants. His injured hand no longer throbbed, but remained bandaged and he held it close to his chest. At least his stomach had ceased to grumble, the rabbit offered more than enough to eat, and he had devoured every bite.

As the town appeared on the horizon, he hoped that he would be able to find work, something small, just enough to afford a bath and a shave, but as he scratched his chin, he knew better. He wouldn't be able to get a job with his present appearance, and he couldn't get cleaned up without money, and he couldn't get money without a job.

As he pondered his dilemma, he saw an old man riding his way. Stopping his horse, he placed his hand on the gun that still resided in the waist of his pants, just in case.

"I wouldn't go into town, if I was you." The man yelled when he was close enough.

"Oh, why is that?" Heyes began to relax as the old man neared. He was aged and frail. On his saddle, he carried a rifle, but nothing on his hip. Releasing the breath he didn't realize he was holding, he let go of the gun and placed his hand on the saddle horn, straightening himself.

"Damned Governor. Putting on a dog and pony show for the bank and railroad."

Heyes shook his head slightly, "What do you mean?"

"Where you been? Livin' in a mine? Hannibal Heyes, 'scaped from prison last week, now our _illustrious_ gov'ner has damn near declared martial law; roundin' up anyone that even resembles Heyes. I got two farm hands that have worked for me for ten years, ten years! I just had to go to the sheriff's office and vouch for 'em."

"Oh."

"I'll tell you right now, sonny, this ain't nothing but that good-fer-nuthin' beauracrat shorin' up his campaign money. Devil's Hole has run ram shod over this territory for how many years? And now he wants to do somethin' about it? He's got an election comin' up and this is all about money, boy, all about money."

"I hadn't heard, I live in a small cabin up in the mountains, don't get out often." Heyes tried to smile.

"Yeah, well, read this." From his saddle bag, he pulled out a folded newspaper. "Jim Trousdale out of Cheyenne did a whole piece on what's goin' on. But like I said, I wouldn't go into town if I was you, not unless you got someone following that'll vouch for ya."

"Thank you sir, I think I'll take your advice, I can wait a little while on my supplies." Heyes took the paper in hand and scanned the headline: _**Governor Has Egg On His Face After Hannibal Heyes Escapes.**_

Breathing deep, Heyes watched as the old man continued his way out of town. Turning his own horse toward the sun, he left as well.

An hour later, he stopped at a river bank, letting the horse get a much needed drink. After taking a drink from the jug, he sat and opened the paper to the editorial.

"Last Wednesday night, December 24, the Wyoming Territorial Prison faced what many had deemed the impossible. At eight pm, notorious bank and train robber, Hannibal Heyes, managed to overpower a guard and escape. Few specifics have been released from the prison regarding the tactics employed by Mr. Heyes, but one thing is certain; his escape has unleashed a firestorm across the territory that is being felt by all of its citizens. The Governor, who by the way, is up for election next year, has declared this a territorial emergency. Within twenty-four hours, Federal Marshals were deployed into any town with a population of more than a couple hundred. Also at the Governor's request, the President has provided the support of the US Army along Wyoming's borders. Until Hannibal Heyes is captured, the citizens of this great territory will have to endure the constant presence of military might in our daily lives. Any young man that has the misfortune of bearing even the slightest resemblance to the notorious outlaw will be required to provide proof of identification; families will be disrupted as they go through the process of verifying the identity of their loved ones with the law. And with Army units stationed at every trail in and out, anyone that decides to travel outside out this territory's borders will be scrutinized as they leave. As one representative of the Army stated, 'there won't be a snake or rabbit that gets into or out of Wyoming without us knowing it.'"

The remainder of the editorial digressed into a diatribe against politicians in general. Only one other line caught his attention. The author referred to the town that had arrested Hannibal Heyes, Porterville. The official statement from the sheriff's office was, "No comment."

Heyes thought about Lom. He was going to be mad, worse, he would be disappointed. But he had spent a life time disappointing people, what was one more person to add to the list.

Running his hand through his hair, Heyes leaned back against the tree and went over the facts gleamed from the article. Marshals were in every town, rounding up anyone that bore his resemblance. The Army was posted at every entry and exit to Wyoming. He had been on the run from the law for over ten years, and he had never felt so hunted. Wyoming wasn't safe. He wasn't sure if it ever would be again. But the Kid wouldn't be in Wyoming, he knew that much for sure, which meant that he needed to get out of Wyoming. Looking east, he knew Nebraska was close, so close that he could practically see it. He smiled, he had an advantage. The Governor, the Marshals, the Army, none of them had ever been on the run. They never had to lose a posse or a bounty hunter, they never had to disappear.

Returning to the horse, he guided it around a bend. In front of him was the road to Nebraska, but what no one else would see, or to put it a better way, no law-abiding person would see, was another path. It was overgrown and went into the trees, into the forest. He knew this, because that was the path the Devil's Hole gang had once taken after robbing a train coming into Wyoming. The posse had been right behind them, and with the Kid at his side, they took a chance. It was a gamble that kept all of their men alive and out of jail, a gamble that he was about to take again. Leading the horse into the woods, he slowly walked the mare down an embankment, to a slow moving stream. Jumping on the horse's back they lazily walked, listening to the sounds of the forest. Birds were chirping, the stream was gurgling. Even the cool wind blew easily through the trees. If he closed his eyes, he could hear all the sounds that nature had to offer and he was grateful that it was only nature that he heard. No voices or gunshots. No evidence that anyone else existed on the path that he was taking. As the stream took a right turn, he knew he was in Nebraska. Taking the horse up the embankment and onto a well-worn road, he looked towards the Wyoming border and saw specks on the horizon, which must have been the Army.

With a smile, he turned the steed eastward, continuing on.

* * *

River Rock, Nebraska.

Festive sounds flowed out of the saloon as Heyes tied his horse to the hitching rail on the street. Looking in, he saw the tables of poker; the men playing looked comfortable with the cards in their hands. The girls, whose clothes hung tight to their voluptuous frames, laughed as they brought the men drinks. The thought of trying to romance one was quickly put aside; the mere sight of his trail-worn appearance would frighten even the most seasoned of saloon girls. And without a dime to pay her with, he knew he had a better shot of winning a hand of poker with a pair of twos.

He ran his hand through his hair, it was getting long, too long, he needed it cut. He needed a lot of things, a meal being one of them. His gun was empty, the last remaining shots being used on a pair of rabbits. His aim was still off, but without any extra ammo he couldn't practice and now, he didn't even have a single bullet to protect himself.

Stepping out of the doorway, he gave room for a drunken man that stumbled through the bat-wing doors. Heyes watched as he tried to maintain his balance as he strolled down the steps, into and across the street. Using the buildings to hold himself up, he slid along a storefront, tumbling into the alley between the mercantile and the bank. Seeing no one else around; Heyes walked across the street towards the fallen man. Between the buildings, the man laid on his side, one hand curled underneath his head, snoring loudly.

"Hey, you." Heyes gently slapped at the man's face, trying to awaken him, but with no luck. Looking down, the man wore a six-gun, his holster complete with extra bullets. In his back pocket was a wallet. With a glance around to see if there were any eyes upon him, he slowly removed the wallet and looked inside. The man had money, and lots of it. Removing twenty dollars, he placed it in his own pocket and returned the wallet to its owner. As he walked back towards the street he looked over at the saloon. He could already taste the beer and the women that the establishment would provide. As he took a step forward, something stopped him. Glancing back at the drunken man he thought about the times he had been in that situation. How many times had alcohol overtaken him, but he always had a friend there to watch out for him. With a sigh towards the heavens, he walked back. Taking the wallet again, he returned the money to its rightful place. Then, pulling him by the shoulders, he leaned him up against the side door of the mercantile, out of sight. Heyes hoped that would be enough to protect him, keep anyone else from doing exactly what he had almost done. With a hand through his hair, he whispered to himself, "I picked a hell of time to turn honest." Looking to the man's waist, he took a few of the bullets, just enough to get him through a few meals. Walking out of the alleyway, he returned to his horse and turned it east as he continued on.

* * *

Thaddeus Jones. With each town he stopped in, Heyes would ask the hotel clerk a simple question, "Has a man by the name of Thaddeus Jones been here?" Each town, each clerk gave the same answer, "Never heard of him."

But then he knew better. He knew Kid would keep from getting noticed. Kid would make sure that he didn't do or say anything that would bring attention; especially since he too was alone.

As he hopelessly searched on, the nights were getting colder and shelter was becoming scarcer.

As he rode into a small mining town, he pulled his horse to the hotel front. One more town, one more clerk. His hope was fading with each negative answer. His hope was dwindling that he would ever find his friend again.

As he tied the steed to the rail, he felt something nudge his arm. Looking behind him, his smile widened. There stood a tall stallion; it had a brown coat with a dark mane. Just under the left ear was a small patch of white and on the hind quarters was a brand, from the Bar-K ranch. Heyes ran his hand down the horse's shoulders, to the saddle, same saddle, worn and dirty. Petting the horse on the nose, he whispered, "Boy, am I glad to see you."

The sun was beginning to set in the western sky, but it was still early. He glanced toward the livery; they would be open for another hour at least. Kid would come back. Kid wouldn't leave his horse out in the cold. Kid would be close. With hesitant steps, he walked towards the saloon that sat just to the right of the hotel. Cautiously looking through the doors, he scanned the room, the men at the bar, and at the players at the tables. In the middle of the room, with his back to the door, he saw the familiar brown leather jacket, dark blond hair under a dark brown hat. He sat lazily in the chair, his cards close in front of him, a shot of whisky just to his right. Heyes made his way in and leaned against the bar, shooing away the bar keep when asked if he was interested in a drink. For three hands he watched. Kid was up, considerably. On the last deal, he caught a glance at the cards; he chuckled to himself, _how many times have I told him to not draw to an inside straight?_ But then, he was dealt the last card, and won.

Heyes smiled proudly, until the blowhard from across the table spoke up. Only the players around him heard his first comment, but the second came loud and clear. "I said, I think you're cheatin'." The man rose from his chair. Kid stayed put, not letting the man get to him, refusing to be forced into a confrontation that he wanted no part of.

In his quiet drawl, Kid spoke softly, "I'm sorry that you feel that way, but it appears that you are the only one here that does."

"Yeah, well I'm the one that counts. Now, you're either gonna get out of this game, or we can draw." The man threw open his oversized coat, exposing the gun on his hip. Heyes always hated the dramatic flourish that some men felt the need to display. After years by Kid's side he knew there were two types of gunslingers - the ones that claimed to be fast, and the ones that actually were.

Kid slowly rose, his hands resting casually on his belt as the room became deathly quiet, "Now mister, there's a lot of people in here, and if we start shootin' someone else could get hurt, then you and I would be in a lot of trouble. So, why don't we both just call it night? "

"I don't think you understand." The man said with a gruff.

"No, you're the one that doesn't understand." Heyes spoke as he walked up behind Kid, his gun aimed at the man across from the table. Though empty, he had enough experience to know, more often than not, the threat was enough. "I've been watchin' this game for a few hands and this fella here wasn't cheatin', but I saw you crease at least two cards during the last deal."

The man to Heyes' right went through the deck, pulling out two cards, the ace of diamonds and the ace of spades. As soon as they landed on the table, the other men rose to their feet, angry.

Heyes raised a calming hand. "Now, no need everyone getting riled up, this fella here was just leaving, weren't you." Heyes' eyes darkened as he stressed that it was a command, not a suggestion.

As he watched the man leave, the saloon slowly returned to normal. Heyes neared Kid, who was collecting his winnings. "There's always got to be one."

Kid glanced back at Heyes, then looked at his bills as he folded them and placed them in his pocket. "Heard you were out." Without another word, he turned and walked to the bar. Signaling the barkeep, he said, "Beer."

Without speaking a word, the bartender pointed to Heyes, a question to which Heyes nodded, "Yes, please." Heyes turned to Kid, "That's it? No good to see you or how have you been?"

Kid momentarily glanced toward Heyes, and then turned back, accepting the beer offered and placing a dime on the bar for payment.

As the bartender handed Heyes the other beer, he looked at the disheveled man, "That'll be a dime."

Heyes gave a slight pat over his pockets, "I don't have any money."

"Then you don't have any beer." The man spoke matter-of-factly, as he removed the drink.

Heyes leaned in close, "You know, the last time I saw you, you still had some money I earned."

Kid stood up straight and pulled the money from his pocket. Counting it out, he forcefully placed some on the bar, "Seventeen dollars and thirty-two cents." He then returned to focus on his beer.

Heyes signaled for a drink and handed the man the dime and asked, sarcastically, "Beer, please." With glass in hand, Heyes took a large pull on the drink. He had forgotten how good a cold beer tasted. But for some reason, this one wasn't as satisfying as he had hoped; there was a bitterness that he couldn't place. Placing it back on the bar, he stared ahead. "Alright, you're still mad."

Kid let out an "Hmph," but otherwise remained silent.

"Look, I'm sorry. I made a mistake, but I need your help." Again, the Kid remained quiet. Close, he whispered, "Damnit Kid, the Governor has the Army after me."

Kid nodded yes, "You're right, that is a problem, but it's yours, not mine." Finishing his beer in a gulp, Kid turned and walked towards the door, leaving a stunned Heyes behind.

On the front steps, Kid slowly put on his gloves. On his heels, Heyes pulled on his elbow. "That's it? Partners for over ten years, and you're just going to walk away?"

Kid shrugged, "You made that decision Heyes, I didn't."

Heyes looked out into the night, not ready to leave. "You have every reason to be mad, but can we… look, can we talk about this in the morning, just give it one night to think over?"

Kid looked towards the hotel, "Room only has one bed; you'll be on the chair."

Heyes smiled. "That's fine."

Kid turned and walked towards the hotel and untied his horse. On his way to the livery, he glanced back, "By the way, you look like hell."

Heyes chuckled at the remark, "You go as long as I have without a bath and you won't win any beauty contests either."

* * *

As Kid walked into the hotel room the next morning Heyes was standing at the mirror, shaving. He still wore the same god-awful pants, dirty with blood stains on one leg. He had at least cleaned up and taken a bath. He had lost weight, a lot of it and his hair was too long, but after a bath it at least didn't look like he'd been sleeping in a barn. At the sign of Kid, Heyes stopped what he was doing and motioned with the razor, "I borrowed your razor." He simply shrugged. They'd borrowed each other's things before, what would it matter this time.

Kid walked up beside him and placed a gun belt on the counter. "Mercantile had a sale, thought you could use it, surprised you haven't shot yourself having it back there."

Heyes smiled, "Thanks Kid, wasn't really any danger, I'm out of bullets."

Again, he just shrugged and walked to the window and stared out. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, just looking away. From the corner of his eye he saw Heyes dry his face with a towel and put on the gun belt. Even at the smallest notch, it hung on his hips. "You can have one my shirts." He continued to stare out the window. He had a million questions, but couldn't get the nerve to ask a single one. He also had things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Heyes that he was still angry, but was also glad to see him. He wanted to tell him that he was both the last person that he wanted to see and the first; that the past few months had been hell on him too, but he wasn't quite ready to forgive and forget.

Taking a blue shirt from Kid's bag, Heyes put it on and walked up behind him. "I really appreciate it." Again, Kid just shrugged. "Look, Kid, about what happened. You were right, I should'a talked to you before I turned myself in."

Pushing himself away from the window, Kid went to his bag, forcefully closing it. He didn't want to talk about it; above all else, he just didn't want to talk about. "Yeah, well, you didn't."

"Look, we've got to get past this, we're partners."

Anger boiled in Kid, the word _partner_ , a word that hadn't applied to him in months, a word that felt, sounded wrong. He turned on Heyes, "Partners? Now we're partners? Now that you need help, **now** you decide we're partners?"

Heyes was taken aback by Kid's anger. "Look Kid, I said I was sorry."

His anger unbridled, Kid threw his hands in the air, "Well then, if the great Hannibal Heyes says it, then everyone else should just do as they're told, just like we were back in Devil's Hole, right?"

"Kid…" Heyes was at a loss for words.

"I've followed you, ever since we was kids. I've listened, I've gone along with your schemes and your plans, and never turned my back on you. It's always been your way, it's always been a Hannibal Heyes plan and to hell with the rest of us."

Heyes' face grew angry, "Kid, that isn't true."

"Yes it is Heyes, I just never felt the need to tell ya until now."

Running a hand through his hair, Heyes turned away for a moment, turning back he faced his angry friend, "Fine, I messed up. If I could change, I…" he breathed, heavy. "Damnit Kid, haven't you ever made a mistake, haven't you ever done anything that you regret?"

"Yeah Heyes I have, I became partners with you." Kid saw the shock on Heyes' face. His words were meant to hurt, and damn it, they worked. Unable to face his old friend, he turned away. He didn't mean the words he spoke, not really, but he couldn't find it in himself to take them back either.

From behind, he heard Heyes speak softly. "Fine, if that's the way you feel about it. Thanks for the shirt and the holster. I'll just be on my way."

Kid tried not to watch as Heyes tucked in the shirt, put the gun in his new holster and walked towards the door. For a moment, he just stood there, his hand on the handle, waiting, waiting for the words Kid wanted to say, the words his pride just wouldn't allow.

Then, there was a knock on the door. Looking at each other, Heyes pointed toward the door, silent communication, something they had mastered over the years. Shaking his head no, Kid motioned towards the other door, a suggestion that Heyes quickly accepted as he entered the closet, his bullet-less gun gripped firmly in one hand.

Kid walked slowly towards the door and after checking that there was no sign that anyone else had slept there the night before, he unlocked and opened it.

"Kid, I wish I could say good to see you…" Lom stood in the door way, his hat in hand. "Mind if I come in?"

Kid stepped back, letting Lom in, but placing himself between the law and Heyes.

"I'm sure you know why I'm here."

Kid shrugged, "My amnesty finally came through?"

Lom glared at him. "Not quite. Why don't we just skip the formalities and you go ahead and tell me where Heyes is?"

"Haven't seen him since Porterville."

"You haven't seen him…" Lom parroted as he scanned the room, obviously looking for some piece of evidence of Heyes' presence. "You really expect me to believe that?"

"Don't really care what you believe, but I haven't seen him. If I were the law though, the first place I'd check is along the Mexican border. That's where I'd be headin' if I was him, Mexico."

Lom smiled a fake smile, "Is that so?" He walked to the bed and dropped his hat on the end of it. "Did he tell you about the deal the Governor offered him?" Kid just watched him, unmoved. "Offered to let him serve a partial sentence. Five years, just five years and he'd a'been free."

"Like I said, I haven't seen him and I hope the Governor doesn't think I was involved in his escape."

"No, no, he knows you had nothin' to do with it. But he's angry, real angry. He took a chance on you two, feels like this is a pretty dirty way to repay him."

"Well, he'll just have to take that up with Heyes."

"He plans to. In case you haven't heard, he's deployed Federal Marshals and all the Army that he can get his hands on in his search for Heyes. Plus, I've been temporarily relieved of my duties as Sheriff of Porterville."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You're a good Sheriff." Kid said, sincerely.

"I think so too. But for now, I've been given one job and one job only, that is to find, arrest, and return Hannibal Heyes to the Wyoming Territorial Prison."

Kid took in a deep breath.

His voice softened. "Look Kid, after Heyes got out I talked with the Governor, begged him is more like it. He's agreed that if I can get him to come in peacefully, he'll forget this ever happened. He'll even sign off on him being released at the end of the five years. If he wins this next election, that'll be at the end of his term anyway, so he won't have to worry about any backlash because of it. But Kid, I need you to help me convince Heyes to turn himself in."

"I told you Lom, I haven't seen him."

"Yeah, that's what you told me." Lom closed his eyes for a moment. Taking his hat off the bed, he returned to the door. "Heyes has one month. This deal isn't going to be there after that. If he isn't back in prison by March 1st, his warrant will be re-issued. Except the new one is going to have prison break and horse theft added to his list of crimes, that's an extra five years at least. Also, the Governor is going to personally add $5,000 to the reward. That makes the two of you worth $25,000. You think long and hard about that."

Without another word, Lom opened the door and left.

Turning the lock as the door closed, Kid leaned against it. A moment later, Heyes walked out of the closet.

"You catch all that?"

"Yeah."

"They really offered you a deal to get out in five years?"

Heyes walked to the bed and sat on the edge. "Yeah, they did."

"It was really that bad?"

For a moment they just looked at one another. Heyes nodded shamefully, "Yeah, you could say it was."

Kid leaned his head back on the door and closed his eyes. "What are you going to do?"

"Wish I knew Kid, wish I knew."

Kid walked to the window and looked out. Down in the street, he saw the Sheriff with what looked like a small posse. Going to the side window, he looked out. "Heyes, when was the last time you climbed a tree?"

Heyes looked up at him, puzzled. "Not since we were kids, why?"

"Behind the hotel is a big oak. You could probably take the railin' back to it, climb down to the ground. Livery is just a couple of doors down, take the back way to get to your horse while I distract Lom downstairs."

Heyes went to the window and looked out as well. The buildings sat close together, the shadows would hide him as he moved. Agreeing with Kid's plan, "I can do that." He cautiously looked at the Kid, "Then what?"

"I'll go south, I know of a couple of places that I can lose the men that Lom will have follow me. We could meet up in Whitfield, come up with a plan there."

Heyes smiled. "Sounds good."

Kid reached around his belt, took out six bullets and handed them to Heyes, "Just in case."

Heyes took them gratefully and loaded his weapon. As he closed the chamber he spoke softly, "Kid, I am sorry, about everything."

"Yeah, me too." Taking a deep breath, Kid grabbed his bag. "Ten minutes long enough?"

Heyes smiled and nodded and then slowly opened the window to make his way out.

* * *

As Kid laid the hotel keys on the counter, he heard Lom walk up behind him. "Leaving so soon, Mr. Jones?"

Kid handed over the money he owed the clerk and turned to face Lom, "I was told a ranch south of here was hiring a few hands, thought I'd look into it."

"Is that so?"

Behind Lom, three men walked up, each wore a gold star on their chest, Federal Marshals.

Lom glanced back, "Mind if we have a small talk before you go on your way."

Kid motioned towards a table in the back of the room. It was in a curtained off area, private and quiet. At the table, Kid placed his bags in the chair to his right and sat down; Lom sat across from him, the marshals kept their distance as they kept their eyes on the hotel lobby.

"Alright, enough playing games." Lom spoke softly. "Where's Heyes?" He put up his hand. "And don't give me that story about how you haven't seen him since Porterville, I've been trailing him for the past two weeks. I've been in five towns where the hotel clerk reported that an unshaven, bedraggled man came in looking for Thaddeus Jones. Lookin' for you." He pointed directly at Kid. "And the clerk here reports that you came in last night with a fella that fits that description."

"Don't know what to say Lom, except the clerk must have been mistaken. Heyes might be lookin' for me, but I haven't seen him."

Lom clenched his fists. "Kid, I said don't play games with me. You're standing between Heyes and the law, and that's a bad position to be in."

"Then go find him. I'm not exactly hiding him underneath my coat." Kid pulled back his jacket, exposing nothing underneath. "You said you've been tracking him, then go track him."

"I intend to."

Kid leaned close to the table. "But I am glad that we can talk. You said the Governor knows I had nothing to do with all this." Lom nodded in agreement. "Good. Lom, it's been almost two years. I've done everything the Governor has asked. When is he gonna honor his part of the agreement?"

"Your partner is on the run, being hunted by every law man and bounty hunter this side of the Mississippi and you're worried about your amnesty?"

"He's not my partner anymore."

"Oh, and does he know that?"

"Lom, I told you…"

"Yeah, I know what you told me, and I don't buy it. I told you, I've been tracking him."

Kid leaned back, curious. "How'd you do that anyway? He gettin' that clumsy?"

"Let's just say my life as a former outlaw provides a certain insight." Lom leaned in. "Kid, you're not doing him any favors by trying to hide him. That extra reward is going make life real dangerous for the both of you. Where are you going to turn if you get in trouble? You won't be able to trust nobody, not even the Devil's Hole boys when they're starin' at $25,000. Five years, that's it. He'll be free. And I bet if you were the one to convince him to turn himself back in, the Governor would look pretty highly on you. That amnesty could be just around the corner. Do yourself and him a favor; this is the best deal you two will ever get."

"You want me to turn Heyes in for the amnesty?" Kid was offended at the suggestion. "If you think I could do that then you don't know me or him at all." Kid took a glance at his pocket watch and then rose to leave.

Looking down at the watch Kid just placed back in his pocket, understanding came to Lom as he slowly rose. "Oh, I think I know you two better than you think. Apparently you did make up. This was all just a setup, to give him time to get away. I can't believe I didn't spot this little Hannibal Heyes plan sooner."

Kid put his hand to his chest. "Lom, I swear to you, this isn't a Hannibal Heyes plan."

Lom yelled to one of his men, "Jacobs, get the boys, have them check the livery for that horse. I want every man on horseback stopped, check for any tracks leading out of town and get on them. Seems Heyes and Curry are at it again." He shot a sideways glance towards the Kid.

As Lom moved towards the door, Kid grabbed his arm, "C'mon Lom, you know me."

"Exactly Kid, I **know** you."

* * *

Kid knocked on the hotel room, quietly speaking, "It's me, Thaddeus."

From the other side, he heard the lock slide back as Heyes opened the door. He looked better, a lot better. His hair was shorter, and he wore fresh clothes, newly bought. It was a dark blue shirt, tan pants with a fully armed holster. A new hat sat on the dresser. His face wasn't as gaunt, and he looked rested, well rested. "You look better."

"Got lucky at poker the first night I got here." Heyes stepped to the side and let him in, "Did you have any trouble with Lom?"

"Nothin' I couldn't handle. He had two men follow me out, lost them over at dead-man's pass. How about you, any sign of him?"

He shook his head no. "Not yet anyway. I'd like to know how he found me in the first place."

"How'd you get out of Wyoming?"

"I followed the river out; just like we did after the Jasper job."

Kid closed his eyes as he collapsed in the chair by the door. He took off his hat and tossed it onto one of the beds, "Did you forget who suggested that job in the first place? Who was riding with us then?"

"Lom." Heyes sat on the end of the bed, "I guess I was so worked up about avoiding the Army, I forgot. I never thought I'd be running away from him too."

"Yeah, well you are and he's hell bent on finding you. Heyes, what about Mexico? Lom made a good point, $25,000 is a lot of money, we're gonna have a helluva time convincin' anybody that we ain't who we are."

Heyes smiled, "We?" Kid didn't answer. "Kid, I don't want to go to Mexico or South America or anywhere else. I want to be here, in the good ole U.S. of A."

"Then you better come up with a plan, and fast. 'Cause Lom ain't givin' up."

Heyes agreed, "You're right." Slapping his hands on his knees he stood up. "You hungry? I think I got enough left over to buy a couple of steak dinners."

Kid stood and smiled, he placed a hand on Heyes' shoulder, "Heyes, there are some things that will never change."

* * *

"Four dollars? That's highway robbery."

Kid and Heyes looked up from their dinners, not believing the voice they just heard. Kid swallowed his bite, "Can't be."

Heyes shifted to one side as they both stole a glance at the table behind them. Looking at one another again, Heyes spoke, "It is."

Behind them, in a booth against the wall, sat none other than Devil's Hole boys, Wheat Carlson and Kyle Murtree. Both looked trail worn and dusty. Each had an empty plate in front of them.

"What do you suggest we do?" Kid asked.

"We keep them from making a scene." Heyes stood and threw his napkin on the table, "C'mon."

Kid walked up to the frazzled waitress and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Is there a problem here ma'am?"

She looked up at the strangers, "Yes sir. These two men ordered and ate two steak dinners and are now refusing to pay for them."

Heyes gripped his gun belt with his thumbs, "You'll have to forgive our friends ma'am. Too many years in the mines, you see. My friend and I can cover the cost. Four dollars, was it?"

She nodded, "Yes, that's it."

Pulling the money from his wallet, he placed it in her hand, closing it around the bills. "This should be enough to cover both ours and theirs." With a nod, she backed away and went back to her work. Heyes turned towards the booth, "You two trying to get yourselves arrested, over a couple of steaks?"

"We was hungry." Kyle spoke, meekly.

"Yeah, and that steak wasn't worth two dollars." Wheat spoke, proudly.

"Well mine is. Good evenin' boys." Kid tipped his hat and with Heyes behind him, returned to their table.

Following tight on their heels, Kyle and Wheat pulled up a chair on each side of the table. Wheat leaned in close. "We heard you got out. Why ain't you in Mexico yet?"

Heyes took a drink of water. "Cause I don't want to go to Mexico." He looked up at Kid, "Why does everyone keep saying I should go to Mexico?"

Kid just shrugged. "Why are you two here, instead of in Devil's Hole?"

Wheat gave a disgusted look, "Cause of that rat Lom Trevors." Heyes and Kid shared a concerned look. "About ten days ago, me and Kyle went out for supplies, guess what we run into comin' back into the Hole? The Army."

"The Army is at Devil's Hole?" Kid asked.

Kyle nodded yes, "Got the whole place surrounded, men at every trail. Even the ones the law don't know about."

"Apparently, they know about them now." Heyes put down his fork and leaned back in the chair.

"Yeah, Kyle and me figured Trevors must of told them where to go. How else would they know?"

"Why would he send men there? Lom knows you didn't go back to the gang." Kid asked.

"Kid, he's just doin' what he's been told. The Governor probably wants men everywhere that I've been known to hide out." Heyes turned back to Wheat, "The boys have enough supplies to get through the winter, right?"

"Course they do, what kind of leader do you think I am?" Kid and Heyes shared a look, but said nothing.

"They can't keep the Army there forever. Hopefully in a month or two, they'll pull them back."

"Yeah, well, that good-fer-nothin Governor's makin' a big mistake. One he's gonna regret."

"What do you mean?"

Kyle spoke up, "He's got a lot of people awfully mad. It ain't safe to be an outlaw no more."

"Kyle, it was never safe to be an outlaw." Heyes snickered at Kid's sarcasm. He always had a way of dealing with Kyle and Wheat, and he could never help but be amused by it.

"Yeah, well, bunch of us are getting together, got a plan to teach him a lesson." Wheat spoke, proudly.

"What kind of lesson?"

"Well, Heyes, you remember Isaiah Jackson, used to run with the Double-T gang?"

"What about him?"

"Well, three of his boys were arrested last month. Arrested for doin' nothin' more than havin' a beer in a saloon. Federal Marshal figured out who they were, now they got fifteen year sentences. Anyway, Isaiah's fed up with it. Well, he's got an uncle that works for the Governor; let's just say he isn't exactly on the straight and narrow, if you know what I mean." Wheat laughed, but only he and Kyle appeared amused. "Anyway. 'Parently, the Governor has a big party every year. This year, Isaiah and a bunch of us are goin' to be working for the…" he was at a loss for words, "what do you call them, the people that bring in the food?"

"Caterers?" Heyes asked.

"Yeah, caterers. Anyway, we's going to work as caterers. Midway through the party, couple of us are gonna grab the Governor's pretty little daughter, then Isaiah is gonna demand a ransom. Figure a half of a million dollars split between the ten of us should be enough to disappear till things cool down."

Heyes looked appalled, "You're gonna help Isaiah Jackson kidnap the Governor's daughter?"

Wheat sat back, "Just for a couple of days, you know them highfalutin government types, half a million dollars is barely a drop in the bucket compared to how much their worth."

Kid leaned in close to Wheat, "And what are you going to do if Isaiah goes to hurt the girl? You know he's not exactly the gentle type."

"C'mon Kid, Kyle and me wouldn't let nuthin' like that happen."

"You know Kid, perhaps Wheat is right."

"What?"

"Perhaps having him and Kyle there would keep the girl safe, especially if you and I are with them." Heyes smiled, wide.

"Did you get knocked on the head while you were in that place?" Kid asked, unbelievingly.

"Just hear me out. You and I join the group to kidnap the girl. Except, we don't take her to Isaiah, instead, we return her safe and sound to her father. Don't you think the Governor might feel mighty appreciative of that?"

Kid nodding approvingly, "Perhaps, but how are we going to get in with the gang, it's not like you have a low profile right now."

"Well, Wheat can do it, he can convince Isaiah to let us in, can't you Wheat?" He put a supportive hand on Wheat's shoulder.

"Well, of course I can. But you're asking us to give up $50,000."

Heyes nodded, agreeing, "True, it is giving up $50,000. But if it weren't for me and the Kid, one of you wouldn't be here right now." He glared at Kyle.

Kyle swallowed hard and stared at Wheat. "He's right Wheat; we owe 'em." He looked down at the table, "Or, at least I do."

Wheat gave up, "Fine, we'll talk to Isaiah, but how you plan on getting back into Wyoming without getting arrested?"

"Same way I came out, I'll follow the river. Lom knows I'm here in Nebraska, he won't suspect that I'd return to Wyoming and once there, I'll hide out until the night of the job."

"And what makes you think Isaiah won't try to kill the both of us for the reward?" Kid asked.

"C'mon Kid, if you had to choose between having the fastest gun in the west and a half of a million dollars, versus a measly $20,000, which one would you take?"

* * *

As they walked out of the saloon, Kid turned towards Heyes, "I'm not so sure about this, double crossing Isaiah…"

"Kid, you've heard the same stories I have about him. If he gets his hands on that girl, there's no tellin' what he'll do. Can you really live with that on your conscience? Knowing that you could stop it?"

"You know how many enemies we'll make doing this? We're not gonna be trusted by a single outlaw."

"Any outlaw that would stand by and let something like that happen to a girl, well, I don't want their trust anyway."

As they stepped out into the street, they heard a yell, "That's far enough Heyes." Across the street, Lom Trevors stood with his gun in hand.

Heyes and Kid stared for a moment, not believing the sight in front of them. "Lom…" Heyes started.

Before he could finish, Lom continued, "Hannibal Heyes, I'm placing you under arrest."

People in the street stopped and scurried out of sight. Alone, Lom faced off with his two former leaders. Heyes breathed deep, "I'm sorry Lom, but that can't happen. Not now."

"You don't seem to understand Heyes, this isn't a request. You decided to put yourself on the other side of the law, I didn't. I've just been ordered to bring you in."

"I thought I had a month, thought I had till the first?"

"Heyes, any trust I had in you disappeared the minute you decided to break out of that prison. This ends, today." With his thumb, Lom slowly pulled back the hammer on his gun.

"Lom, I'm sorry."

Calling what he hoped would be a bluff; Heyes took a step towards his horse. He heard the gun shot and felt the burning, tearing pain in his side. As he fell towards the ground, he felt two sets of arms pulling him up by the shoulders, knowing it was Kyle and Wheat. Then he heard another shot and looked up, just as a bullet struck his old friend, the one that was just doing his duty. As he blacked out, he tried to scream, "No!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Like Lightning From The Sky**

(Part 5 of 5)

Pain; that was the only thing he could feel. It was a burning pain, a pain as if his skin was on fire. Voices cascaded around him, saying his name, telling him to _hang in there_ and to _not give up_. They were indistinct, but he felt comfort by them, knowing they were there, knowing he wasn't alone. He tried desperately to open his eyes, only to fall into darkness.

* * *

He couldn't tell time, had no idea how much had passed. There were more voices, different voices, different words, _infection_ , _critical_ , _not sure if he'll make it_. Heyes' mind swirled with the words as he tried to understand, but the more he tried, the more confused he would become, and the quicker the darkness would appear. With each awakening, he would struggle, struggle to do something, to move a hand, a foot, an eye, just something to let those around him know that he wasn't giving up.

* * *

He was so tired and too weak to move, but Kid, he heard the Kid. He was talking to someone else, some stranger. Their voices sounded muffled, as if he were under water, but words were coming out, just single words, _preacher_ , _prepare, last-rites_. Anger began to boil, how could they give up on him, he wasn't ready, **he** wasn't giving up. He struggled; desperate to let Kid know, let him know that he was still there.

He felt Kid's hand on his arm, reassuring. He whispered, "Be still, just rest."

How could he be still if they were already planning his funeral, how could he rest when everyone else was giving up? He'd survived too much to let a single bullet take him down, survived too much for it to end like this.

Darkness enveloped him again.

* * *

More voices. They were clearer and more distinct. Kyle, one was Kyle. It was his good natured, never-hurt-nobody-even-if-he-tried friend, Kyle. "I don't know about this." Kyle never knew about _this_ , God love 'em, he'd get confused if you tried to explain the sun rising.

"Kyle, we don't have a choice." Kid, it was his partner and best-friend, the only person in this world he could ever really count on, but what choice? What was he planning?

"I still say he'd rather have cedar." Wheat always had something to say, he could never just agree.

"Wheat, a coffin is a coffin." Heyes tried to move again. He tried to stir, to make some sound. Again, he felt that reassuring hand, heard his friend's voice. "Settle down, Heyes. It'll all be over soon; just relax."

Darkness came again.

* * *

There was noise, a rumbling noise. Again, he couldn't open his eyes, his lids were heavy, and he couldn't get a good feel for where he was. Darkness surrounded him, pure, unforgiving darkness. His hands were folded on his chest, his elbows rubbed against the walls of whatever confined him. Where was he? He struggled as panic rose in his chest. He couldn't move! Memories flooded his mind, words the nuns spoke at the home, words of the afterlife, what to expect if you were good and what to expect if you weren't. Was this his penance? Was this what you faced after a life full of lies and thievery? Was this absolute justice for all the scheming and cheating, to be trapped, unable to move, unable to breathe?

Just as he thought he felt his hand spasm, darkness overtook him again.

* * *

There was a light, a bright light. Heyes struggled to turn away, fearing the _light_ all the old ladies talked about. However, upon opening his eyes, he smiled; it was a window, a simple, ordinary hotel window. The curtain was shear, the walls were covered with floral print wallpaper and beside the bed was a chair. It was an ugly green, velvet covered chair. In the chair were his new holster and the gun with the ivory handles; on the nightstand was a lamp. He slowly looked around, as he turned his head, the room spun and darkness again threatened to envelop him. But he was awake, and he wasn't going back under, not until he saw the Kid, not until he talked to him. Looking to the other side of the room he saw another bed, its covers thrown back. A dresser with a mirror that reflected the light from the window sat on the opposite wall. A saddle bag rested on top of it. He tried to move his arm, but it was held down, tied to his waist. Even the slightest movement brought blinding pain to his side, he had been shot and the wound had not healed, not yet. His other arm was free; he ran his hand down his face, trying to awaken himself more.

Then he heard a noise, a key going in a lock, a knob turning, a door opening. He tried to lift his head, only for it to fall again, heavy. A shadow approached and a weight rested beside him, a comforting hand on his arm.

"How are you feeling?" It was Kid's voice.

He looked up, tried to focus as the room continued to spin. "Dizzy." He croaked out. A shiver ran down his body, suddenly the room became chilled. "Cold."

Kid put his hand to Heyes' forehead, "You still have a fever. You're fighting an infection. You need more rest."

Kid started to stand and Heyes grabbed his arm, "Kid, a coffin?"

"We'll talk about it later, Heyes; just rest."

Smiling weakly, he closed his eyes as he let the darkness come, but this time, on his terms.

* * *

Time continued to blur, but with each awakening, things became clearer. Slowly, the room gained more depth, the wall paper had more distinct lines, noises came from the street below the window, and his friend slowly relaxed. Kid was there; sometimes with a bowl of hot soup, sometimes with a cool cloth to place upon his forehead, and sometimes with nothing more than his presence. Kid spoke little, and chose his words carefully. He refused to answer any of Heyes' questions, wouldn't tell him what happened after he was shot or how long he'd been out. As time passed, whether it was hours or days, he couldn't tell, Wheat and Kyle would visit. Their faces were somber as they would walk into the room. This would infuriate him, he would want to yell out that he wasn't dead yet. Worse, Kid had warned them not to tell him anything. He knew this because anytime he would try to get them to answer even the smallest of questions, they would glance at Kid who would return a glare that no one could mistake as anything other than a sign to stay quiet. Instead, they would chat about little things, stupid things that held no consequence. The weather (it'd been snowing), the town (good food, but too much law), or just each other (Wheat had almost gotten arrested for trying to steal a shirt at the mercantile; Kid saved him by sweet-talking the shop keeper's daughter).

Finally, Heyes had enough. After a particularly frustrating visit with Wheat and Kyle, that ended with Kid threatening to blow a hole in both of them if they didn't settle down, Heyes waited to make his move. As soon as Kid moved to wash his face in the basin, Heyes painfully sat up. "Alright Kid, it's been long enough."

Kid looked back through the mirror to his partner and released a deep sigh. Slowly turning, he leaned against the basin.

"I've been sitting here for weeks, and nobody has told me anything."

"Days, it's been three days since you woke up."

"Fine, days. You're either gonna start answering me, or I'm gonna climb out of this bed, go downstairs and get some answers myself."

"You're too weak; you won't make it to the door. Not to mention, you can't open it without the key."

"Kid." Heyes spoke threateningly.

Kid turned and ran a cool cloth down his face; an obvious delay tactic.

"Where are we?"

Kid slowly turned and walked to sit on the opposite bed. "Cheyenne."

"Cheyenne? Wyoming?"

"Is there another Cheyenne?"

Heyes took a deep breath, just as nervous to ask the next question as he was to hear the answer, "What happened in Whitfield?"

"You were shot."

"I know that part."

Kid took a deep breath. "You were shot. I didn't see him pull the trigger, I didn't… maybe I just didn't believe he'd do it. But you were shot. It took everything we had just to get you on my horse and out of town and it was a miracle that any of us survived. Wheat was hit in the shoulder; your horse was shot as we rode out. It took us over an hour to lose the posse and another hour to get you to a doctor. By then, you'd lost a lot of blood and were running a fever."

Taking in the information, Heyes closed his eyes. "Lom?"

A moment passed and then another. Kid spoke, softly, "I don't know." For a moment, they just looked at one another, expressing more concern than words ever could. "I didn't shoot him. After you went down, Kyle and Wheat came out. Kyle's never been the best shot anyway, but he hit him. After that, I don't know."

Heyes ran his hand through his hair, unsure of what to say, just wanting it all to be not true.

"Heyes, for the first time, I froze. I couldn't do it, but I should have." Heyes glanced up, unbelieving, "If I had been the one to shoot him, he would be fine. I would have aimed for his gun and not missed, but **damnit**!" He stood and walked back to the basin, his hands gripped into firm fists resting on the marble.

"You don't have it in you to shoot a friend. Not even his hand." Heyes swung his legs over the side of the bed, dizziness tried to overtake him, but he refused to give in. Instead, he braced himself against the mattress, silently willing himself to stay upright. "Maybe he's all right. Kyle's a bad shot, but even he couldn't…" Again they shared a look and neither wanted that sentence to be finished. "There's nothing we can do about that now. You said we're in Cheyenne?" Kid nodded yes. "Was Wheat able to get us in with Isaiah?"

"I met with him a few days ago. He's willing to let me in on the job. I told him I had someone else that might want in on it too, but I didn't give him your name."

"Better wait to tell him. Give him as little time as possible to figure out how to collect the reward on the both of us."

"Heyes, this town is crawling with the law. Mexico isn't such a bad idea."

Heyes shook his head no. "No, not until after the job, then maybe. Too many people have already been hurt. We can't let Isaiah get his hands on that girl. If the Governor isn't forgiving after that, then fine, Mexico."

"What if he ain't forgiving and you can't get to Mexico?"

Heyes shrugged, and winced from the pain it caused. "Then I'll go back to prison. But I'm not letting anyone else get hurt. In fact, I wouldn't blame you if you, Wheat or Kyle want to go ahead and back out. Perhaps the three of you could learn Mexican together." Heyes tried to smile.

"Heyes, those boys have enough trouble with English, besides none of us is going anywhere without you." Kid walked in front of his friend. "You've been up too long; doc said you need to get as much rest as you can."

"I'm not tired."

Half-way rolling his eyes, Kid picked up Heyes' feet and placed them back on the bed and tossed up the covers. "I'm supposed to be the stubborn one, remember?"

Giving in, Heyes flattened out the covers. As Kid approached the door, he had one more question to ask. "Kid, how did you get me into Wyoming anyway?"

Kid turned at the door, "You don't want to know."

"Kid."

"The Army's inspectin' anything coming in or out of Wyoming. The only way we even had a chance was to give you something to sleep, then we put you in a coffin. Hell, Army never even opened it up. Once we got just outside of town, I had Kyle destroy it."

"Oh."

"Heyes, do me a favor, I never want to see you in one of those things again."

"Me too, partner, me too."

* * *

"The party is going to start at 7 o'clock, the night of February, 26th." Kid began, as he sat on the end of the bed. He had spent the past week trying, and failing miserably, at keeping his partner rested. But each time he would come back in the room, he would find him either pacing the floor or staring out the window. They didn't have access to a doctor in Cheyenne, and Kid kept warning him that if he tore out his stitches, they'd have no one to tend to them, but Heyes was, well _Heyes_. God-forbid he rest, God-forbid he actually take a few days and just try to heal up. So, to pacify him, he worked to gather as much information as he could, if nothing else, to give his partner something to think about, something to plan. So, he acquired the floor plan to the Governor's mansion, a map that now lay between them on the bed. "The party is going to be on the main floor in the ballroom. The kitchen will be just down the hall. I've talked with Josiah, Isaiah's uncle; he's agreed to have Travis Gerhardt, you, work in the kitchen preparing the food."

"Travis Gerhardt?"

"It was the least alias sounding name I could come up with. At the end of the night, when things start to wind down, I'm supposed to tell the Governor's daughter that one of the ladies needs her in the sewing room, which is right here." Kid pointed to the room just off the ballroom. "Once I have her in there, I will grab her and take her through the back hall, which will be guarded by Wheat and Kyle, to the master bedroom, here," Kid again pointed to the map; instead it was to a large room that sat on the opposite end of the house. "That is where we are supposed to meet Isaiah and Josiah and go out the back window."

"Except, what you are really going to do is meet me in the main guest room beside the master suite. You'll tie her up and then we'll go out the window and put her in the carriage that we will have waiting."

"Exactly, we'll come back here and explain why we took her, then leave a note for the hotel manager and hope the Governor appreciates us kidnapping his daughter." Kid looked at Heyes, unbelievingly. He didn't like this plan, wanted to get out of town, wanted to just alert the law to Isaiah's plan and leave. It was only under Heyes' insistence that he stayed. But then, Heyes hadn't stepped foot out of the hotel room, he hadn't seen the Federal Marshals and the Army. They were still questioning any new person that came into town, or at least any new dark haired and dark eyed men. They were lucky; he, Wheat and Kyle didn't fit that description, but he still got nervous whenever the law looked at them for just a moment too long. Wheat had put it perfectly the first week they were in town, they were about as safe as a rabbit in a snake pit. It was just a matter of time before a snake struck, and then it would be too late. But each man knew, this was Heyes' only chance and, for all Kid knew, it was his only chance as well. Even though he didn't fire the shot, he knew it wouldn't take much for someone to figure out who it was that helped Heyes escape. Lom had kept his alias secret after the prison break, but plain old common sense would win out when a witness from Whitfield described him to the law. His time was running out, just like Heyes'. This was his last chance at freedom too.

His thoughts turned back to Lom, his friend. He had somehow managed to not think too much about him, focusing first on getting Heyes help and then getting the four of them to Cheyenne. But now that Heyes was healing up and they just waited for the party, it seemed all he could think of was his friend. The papers had remained silent on what happened in Whitfield. And being who he was, he couldn't ask around, afraid that even the mention of Lom or Heyes would bring too much unwanted attention. Yet, whenever he walked outside he would feel as if all eyes were upon him, knowing, and waiting. He kept reminding himself that he wasn't the one that fired the gun, he didn't put a bullet in his friend, and yet, he felt as guilty as if he had. If what he feared was true, he wasn't sure how he would get through the guilt. _In all the banks and trains they robbed, they never shot anyone_. That was included in every dime novel written about them, and yet this one time, it was his inaction that might have cost a man his life.

Lost in his thoughts, he stood and walked to the window and looked out. At the end of town were three men from the Army, beside the Sheriff's office a Federal Marshal stood outside the door, just watching the town.

"It's not your fault." He didn't hear Heyes walk up behind him.

"You don't know that."

Heyes placed a hand on his shoulder, "Yes I do and so would Lom. If it's anyone's fault, its mine."

Kid looked back at his friend, his partner. Part of him wanted to agree. To tell him that yes, if they had just gone to Mexico in the first place none of this would have happened. He wanted to place the blame somewhere, anywhere but his own shoulders, but then what good would that do? "Maybe saving the Governor's daughter will somehow make up for it." He tried to smile, but knew he was unsuccessful. Walking back to the bed, he grabbed the paper underneath the floor plan. It was a simple list of names, "Josiah was able to get me the guest list. I went over it; none of the names look familiar, but there are five Sheriffs, two Sergeants, one Lieutenant and three Federal Marshals. We're gonna be surrounded by the law. I'm surprised even Isaiah is this daring."

"He's not, that's why he's having someone else do it." Heyes took the list and scanned down it. "I don't recognize any of them either."

"Good." Kid took the list and rolled it into the map of the mansion. "Then all we have to do now is wait."

* * *

He had always considered himself the patient one. Yet, his patience was wearing thin. It was twenty paces from the back wall of the room to the front, fifteen from one side to the other. There were three lanterns in the room, two doors, one window, a brass tub in a corner, and six pieces of furniture. The color on the dresser didn't match that of the nightstands, it was a darker grain, heavier. And each nightstand was different, one had round corners, the other was squared. Outside, the chilly days were calm, just men and women wrapped in tight jackets, carrying on their normal lives. The dress shop across the street stayed busy, women would walk out, followed by their husbands carrying large hat and dress boxes. The mercantile was running a sale on shirts, two for a dollar. Every few hours the shop keeper's daughter would sneak to the side of the building where she would light a cigar, but would quickly stub it out as soon as someone came by, a habit that she obviously didn't want discovered. She would also smile whenever Kid would come around, and he would smile back. It wouldn't be his fake, romancin'-a-girl-to-get-what-he-wanted smile, but a real one; one that he would be embarrassed by if Heyes were to point it out.

At night, the town became more interesting. It came alive. The local farmhands would come whooping and hollering as they rode into town. Their horses tied to the hitching rail outside the saloon, they would laugh and clap each other on the back as they entered. After a few hours, the occasional drunk would stumble out the doors, attempt, often unsuccessfully, to mount his horse and ride out. On several nights he would watch as a lady from the dress shop would meet one of the men from the saloon and after stealing a glance down the street; they would enter the shop, his hand firmly planted on her hip. From inside, a light would glow for a few minutes, and then go out. An hour later, the two would exit, again watching both sides of the street and quickly parting their separate ways. Heyes would smile each night that he would witness this little indiscretion, amused that, of all people, he held their secret. It was these little moments of seeing someone else doing something they shouldn't that made his days in solitude bearable.

Day after day, the military continued to patrol the streets. Always watching, waiting. Occasionally, someone new would arrive in town. They would barely have time to dismount before a Marshal would approach, asking for a moment of their time. As badly as Heyes wanted out of the room he was in, he couldn't deny the danger of it. So, instead he stayed, locked up, a prisoner in a hotel. Kid would bring him food and water and they would alternate baths. Heyes' only opportunity to venture out would be late at night, when the law would be asleep. Even then, it was just to take a trip to the outhouse and to steal a glance at the silvery moon.

From the other side of the room, the knob to the hotel door turned. Instinctively, he grabbed the gun from the holster on his bed, ready. As the door swung open, Kid walked in and took one glance at the piece that was pointed at him. "You didn't hear me unlock the door?"

He hadn't, so lost in his thoughts he had heard nothing. "Can never be too careful." _It was the truth_ , he thought to himself.

"You keep staring out that window and somebody is going to get suspicious." Closing the door, he took off his hat and threw it on the bed. "I've got a bath on its way up."

Heyes knew what Kid meant, as soon as there was a knock on the door, he would have to disappear into the closet like something to be hidden, something to be ashamed of. "Any news on the job?"

Kid collapsed in the chair by the window. "We're supposed to be at the mansion tomorrow night at five. You'll sneak out the back door of the hotel; Wheat will have the carriage at the end of town. The back seat should be big enough for you to hide in."

"That's fine." He lied.

"Josiah has our uniforms for the party ready. 'Supposed to pick them up this afternoon. I'm gonna look like one of them damn penguins."

Heyes laughed, "And mine?"

"White pants and jacket, they look big enough that you'll be able to hide your gun under the jacket."

There was a knock at the door. As the two shared a glance, Kid stood and put a reassuring hand on Heyes' shoulder. "Just one more night. It'll be over tomorrow."

"You're right. One way or another, you'll be right."

* * *

The mansion was brightly lit; lamps lined the drive as ornate carriages drove up to the front door. The ladies stepped out in long flowing gowns and held tightly to their formally dressed husbands as they were swept up the stairs, past the columns and through the double doors. Behind them a valet took the horse and carriages off. Inside, kerosene lamps and fancy candles were on every wall. Ornate paintings of Governors past and present hung between bookcases and curio cases. The rooms were decorated in dark reds and yellows. The windows were covered in heavy curtains; rugs covered the hardwood floors. The furniture was dark wood, heavy and laden with trinkets that Kid knew were probably worth more than everything he owned.

The ballroom was large. Small tables and sofas lined the edges of the room. The guests mingled easily with one another and chatted idly about politics, for the men, and fashion, for the ladies. In one corner was a string quartet that softly played music that allowed the attendees to sway to and fro. As he moved through the crowd, with a silver platter in his hand, Kid was amazed at how little attention he drew. Not once did he receive even a sideways glance from the law, in fact, he realized any attention was rare in the group that he served, barely getting even a single _thank you_ for his service either.

As he returned to the kitchen for more of something called pate, he ran into Heyes standing in the doorway. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just looking. How's it going in there?"

"Kyle hasn't spilled anything, yet." They glanced back at their friend that was walking across the room. Also dressed in a tux, he held the small tray of finger foods in both hands, unable to grasp the balance that was required to hold it with just one. At the door, Wheat stood stationary, waiting for another guest to enter so that he could remove their jacket and take it to a side room.

"Wheat hasn't lifted any wallets has he?"

"Not that I know of." They shared a look of concern.

"Any sign of _her_ , yet?"

"She just got here. She's the tall one over by the window, next to that statue of Lincoln."

Heyes' eyes doubled as he caught a glance of their intended target. Quickly flattening himself against the hallway wall, he ran his hand through his hair as he nervously wet his lips.

"Heyes…" Kid quietly hissed. He looked back at the girl. She was tall, about their height; she had a strong build, but still feminine. She wore a dark green dress that flowed out from her small waist. Her hair was a radiant red, pinned back away from her face, but cascaded down her back. She wore rubies on her ears and around her neck, yet she looked uncomfortable, always brushing at the skirt of her dress or fidgeting with the stone that sat perfectly between the ample cleavage that she modestly exposed.

"Kid…" Heyes spoke, hesitantly. "You remember how I told you I," he paused, then whispered, " _got out_?"

They shared a look; Kid's breathing became deeper, "Tell me she isn't." Heyes didn't say a word, instead, just held the glance. "What are we gonna do?"

Heyes' eyes darted to the floor, thinking. "Nothing yet. Just keep doing what you're doing. She won't recognize you or the boys."

"And if she sees you?"

"Just keep an eye on her. **Don't** let her come back to the kitchen."

Kid watched as his friend walked away towards the kitchen, just as another caterer came out holding a tray of short stemmed glassed, half-filled with a light pink wine. Stopping him, he handed the man his empty tray. "I'll take that." Before the man could answer, Kid took the tray, delicately balancing it in his right hand.

As he entered the room, he made his way towards the girl. She stood alone, lightly fanning herself with a cloth napkin and looking around, for what, he did not know. As he stepped beside her, he clipped his heels together, something he'd seen some of the real caterers do, and asked, "A drink, ma'am?"

Startled, she placed her hand upon her chest, "Oh, yes, thank you." Taking one of the glasses, she downed the liquid quickly, wincing slightly at the bitterness of the drink. Then replaced the glass upon the tray and took another.

"Forgive me for saying so, ma'am, but you don't seem to be having a very enjoyable evening."

For a moment she glanced at him and took a few shallow breaths. "No, it's just…" She looked around the room. With a huff, she downed the remainder of her drink and placed the glass on the pedestal to her right, picking up her skirt, she shouldered around Kid, "Excuse me."

Kid watched as she walked the length of the room, to a pair of double doors and out into the night. Seeing Kyle nearby with an empty tray in hand, Kid placed his full one on top, "I'll be back. Don't spill it." Kyle gave him a nervous nod.

Following her onto the porch, she leaned against the lattice, her arms shivered from the cold as she ran her hands over them, trying to contain the heat. Taking off his jacket, he walked behind her and lightly placed it over her bare shoulders. Again, she jumped.

"What are you…?"

"You were shivering, ma'am."

She took the sides of the jacket and pulled them closer, her perfectly manicured hands gripping the hems. "Thank you." She looked back out into the night. "I'm sorry; I'm just not used to these types of things."

Kid was confused, "Aren't you the Governor's daughter?"

"Yes, Louise. Louise Johnson. My father hasn't always been Governor. I was raised on a farm; I'm more comfortable on a horse than in a dress." She looked up at the sky, "OH! Why am I telling you this?" She shook her head and closed her eyes.

"Perhaps because you're not the only one that feels uncomfortable all dressed up." For a moment she just looked at him. "My name is Thaddeus, Thaddeus Jones." He took in a deep breath, that wasn't the name he had given the catering crew; it wasn't the name on the Governor's list. He had come up with a different one; too afraid that at some point over the past two years Lom might have divulged their aliases. Yet, after using the same name for so long, it had become second nature, a more familiar name than his given one. But nothing changed in her eyes; it meant nothing to her.

"It's nice to meet you, Thaddeus. Then what brings you here?" She attempted to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"A job." It was the truth, even though his real job had nothing to do with serving food and drinks. "It's hard to find a regular job, bein' how cold it is. A fella has to just take what he can get."

"I suppose."

"Can I get you anything?"

She laughed, half-heartedly, "Yeah, a different life."

"Ma'am?"

"Nothing. Please forgive me. I've had a rough few months."

"Nothing to forgive ma'am." He looked out at the starry night. "It's getting colder, perhaps you should return inside."

Slowly, she removed the jacket, again exposing her feminine curves. Handing it back to him, she smiled coyly, "Thank you."

He watched as she made her way back inside. He could see what had attracted Heyes to her; he also could see the lasting mark his betrayal had left. She didn't deserve to be put through any more hell, but he also knew how much worse it would be if they didn't intervene, if they didn't protect her from Isaiah. Isaiah would have no mercy; Isaiah would do things that no woman ever deserved. As he put the jacket back on, he readjusted the gun that sat tightly under his vest, and silently vowed to keep her from that fate.

* * *

The night was growing late and his feet were beginning to ache. The tight shoes he was forced to wear were rubbing sores into his heels and toes. With each step he grimaced in pain, and with one glance towards Wheat and Kyle, he knew they were feeling the same. Wheat bowed as he led each couple to the door. He tried to help the women with their coats, but more times than not, the husbands would step in and do the job for him, casting a condescending glance towards him all the while. Louise remained standing at the window, staring out towards the night. With a nod towards Wheat and Kyle, he motioned for them to make their exits. Quietly moving towards the hallway, no one noticed when they disappeared from sight.

Kid walked towards her, "Ma'am." She must have seen him through the reflection in the mirror, for she did not jump.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but one of the ladies has asked for your assistance in the sewing room." She looked him deep in the eyes. He could sense her doubt. He could sense her lack of trust, her doubt had been rightfully earned, and he hated that he was going to contribute to its continuing existence.

"Who?"

They hadn't gone over that. They hadn't come up with a story to give her if she asked any questions. And his tongue wasn't silver. For a moment, he stood silent then he looked towards the floor. He might not be able to rattle off a full-fledged story like Heyes, but he had his own set of talents.

"To be honest, ma'am, no one. You just looked like you might want to get away from the crowd." He glanced back to the room, it was still half full. "I thought you might like to relax with someone that doesn't eat pat and hour derves."

She snickered, "Its pat-ay and hor d'ourves."

Kid smiled, "Perhaps you are more comfortable in that party gown than you claim."

"Not by choice, I assure you." She gave a slight chuckle. "You are right though, I wouldn't mind getting away for a moment or two."

Slightly bowing, Kid gestured towards the hallway, staying a safe distance behind, watching to ensure that no one else was watching. As they approached the sewing room, Kid stopped at the door. Looking down the hallway towards the ballroom, there was no one in sight and he knew Wheat and Kyle were standing guard in the hallway to the left. "Perhaps there is somewhere more comfortable to go." He glanced towards the rear of the house and mischievously whispered, "This way."

With a grin, she took his hand and followed him. As they walked down the hall they saw Wheat and Kyle, standing erect, on alert, but their guns were not yet drawn. Before she could question their presence, Kid opened the door to the guest room and quickly pulled her inside.

The room was already brightly lit. A large four-poster bed sat just to the left, a large window on the back wall. Like the ballroom, the walls were covered with paintings and tapestries, an oriental rug lay on the floor. To their right sat a small sitting area with a small sofa and chair. She laughed as she walked towards the bed, "My father would have my hide if he knew I let you bring me in here. I hope you aren't expecting anything… _inappropriate_." She blushed.

Kid walked up in front of her. Her eyes glistened. "No ma'am. Just wanted to get you away from the crowd."

She half-heartedly laughed as she walked around him. "Is that so? You must forgive me; my trust in men isn't exactly at a high point right now."

"I'm sorry about that." From behind the tall armoire Heyes stepped out into the open.

As she recognized the man in front of her, her face became flush with anger. "You!" She turned from Heyes to Kid, her voice filled with venom. "Kid Curry! How could I have not known, why didn't I recognize you?"

"Louise." Heyes tried placed a hand on her arm.

At his touch, she struck, her fist landing squarely upon his jaw, the force of which sent him staggering back a step or two. From behind, Kid pulled her arms tightly behind her, pinning them as she struggled. "You bastard, let me go!"

Taking one hand, he closed it around her mouth, turning her scream into muffled sounds. "You sure know how to pick 'em." He said sarcastically towards Heyes.

From within his coat, Heyes removed the six-gun, the one with the ivory handles. At the sight of her gun, she struggled even more, biting into the hand that held her. As Kid pulled his hand back in pain, she seethed, "You should be dead, I should have killed you. I should have aimed for that empty chasm where most people have a heart!"

Kid and Heyes shared a glance. "What?"

She laughed a hate-filled laugh. "Who do you think put that bullet in you in Whitfield?"

She continued to struggle against Kid's stronghold.

"Lom." Heyes barely breathed the word.

"Trevors? Please, he did nothing but spend his time begging my father to forgive you. When I found out that he was on your trail, I trailed him. I knew he would never have the guts to really bring you in. I just can't believe I was stupid enough to not get a good look at you!" She starred hatefully up at Kid.

Heyes ran his hand down his face, as he tried to maintain control of a situation that was quickly getting out of hand. "Louise, I know you won't believe me, but we need to get out of here and you're coming with us."

She struggled against Kid, "Hell will freeze over before I go anywhere with you. Argh!"

She began to scream, but Kid placed his still aching hand over her mouth and whispered in her ear. "Ma'am, I don't think you understand what Heyes is saying. There is another man, someone that makes Heyes and me look like choir boys, that is wanting to get ahold of you real badly. We're going to take you somewhere safe."

From beneath his hand he heard a disbelieving "Hmph."

"Once the other gang is gone, we'll let you go and you can return to your father, but if you scream, this whole room is going to be filled up with the law, and I'd make a bet that they will start shootin' and then we'll all be in danger. So, you are either going to go out that window over there," Kid nodded toward the window, "all nice and easy like, or else I'm going to have to tie you up like a runaway calf and carry you out. Do you understand?"

Slowly she nodded her head yes.

With his hands firmly gripped around hers, they walked towards the window. As Heyes opened it and was ready to step out, they heard from the other side, "Well, well. What have we here?"

Entering from the window, with gun in hand was a tall thin man, Isaiah Jackson. His clothes were dirty; he wore a dark black jacket that covered a striped shirt and gray pants that were held in place by colorful suspenders. His hair was short, and stuck up in places, obviously neither washed nor groomed recently. Behind him was an older man, Josiah, neatly dressed and clean shaven. He also carried a pistol, except his was polished, the lights from the room reflected off the steel.

As they entered, Kid, Heyes, and Louise stepped back.

"I should'a known where Kid Curry was, Hannibal Heyes wouldn't be far behind. Drop the gun." Isaiah commanded.

Heyes defiantly nodded no.

"If you value the life of your friends…" From behind, two more dusty outlaws came through the window. They were strangers to Kid, but each held a gun and each gun was placed tight against the men they forced in through the window, Wheat and Kyle. "Lookie who we found just outside. When you wasn't where you was supposed to be, we knew we'd been double-crossed. What are you doin' Heyes, thinking you're smart enough to pull this off on your own?"

"Isaiah, we were just bringing her to you." He tried to lie.

"Yeah, well, from what Josiah's been hearin', you and the Kid are about to get real valuable. So we figured we'd just collect on you as well." He pulled back the hammer on the gun. "Now, unless you got hard of hearin' I said drop the gun."

Heyes looked from one man to the other, with a glance back towards his partner; he released his grip on the butt of the gun, letting it swing as he slowly lowered it to the ground.

"That's good, good to see you can take direction."

Heyes slowly backed up, placing himself between Louise and the men.

"Let go of my men." He stared at Isaiah, "You want to take me, fine, but you're not getting them as well."

Isaiah laughed. "I like it how you think you have a choice, Heyes." He glanced back towards Josiah, "You got that ransom note?"

"Right here." The man pulled an envelope from the inside of his vest pocket and dropped it on the bed. "We don't have time to debate this, let's go."

Neither Heyes nor Kid moved; Kid knew that their lives wouldn't be worth a plug nickel the minute they left the Governor's property. All they had waiting for them with Isaiah was a single bullet to the head. As Kid relaxed his grip on Louise's arms, he leaned in and in a whisper he knew only she could hear, he pleaded, "Please, trust us."

When they didn't move, Josiah pulled back the hammer to his own gun. "Did you not hear me boys?"

Heyes stepped back, closer to Louise, "We're not letting you take her."

Isaiah sneered, "Your funeral, Heyes."

Kid saw Isaiah's finger tighten on the trigger. Knowing Heyes saw it to, they both moved quickly. Heyes grabbed Louise's arms, pulling her down towards the floor behind the bed. Instead of landing safely, Kid watched as Heyes went down, landing with a thud. Crouching beside the girl, Kid held Louise to his side as he pulled the gun from his vest. From the other side of the room, he could hear as Wheat and Kyle fought with the men holding them, gunshots ricocheted within the room. Over the mattress, Kid raised his gun and fired a shot towards the outlaws; Isaiah's gun flew backwards as he grabbed his bleeding hand. From the hallway, he heard commotion as men crashed through the door, leaving a splintered frame behind. Shots again rang out, screams of pain and terror echoed. Moments later, quiet. Looking beside him, he saw the girl, her own gun retrieved from where Heyes had dropped it, firmly in her hand, pointed at him. As he stood, he looked for his other friends, Wheat and Kyle. He let out the breath he had been holding. On the floor, with their hands clasped on their heads, they lay unharmed. Not as fortunate, near the window was Isaiah, Josiah and their men. Blood spread across the carpet underneath them, and each stared out blindly, the life behind their eyes gone forever.

Two men with stars on their chests rushed towards him, ripping the gun from his hand and roughly turning him around. His hands were quickly bound as he saw the same happen to Wheat and Kyle. Looking down at his partner, another man turned him over, his eyes were closed, a bleeding gash on his forehead but breathing steadily.

Louise stood to the side, among the men, her gun still aimed at his chest, unwavering. Her eyes, however, her eyes held a different story. They didn't hold the confidence, instead they held questions, questions he hoped he'd be able to answer, questions he hoped she would ask. He needed her to understand they weren't the men they appeared, that even though their intentions might have been selfish to start, ultimately they just wanted to save her.

But she spoke not a word. Instead, he heard something different, something he expected, from behind him. One of the Marshals stepped closer and stated loudly, "You're under arrest."

* * *

Pain blinded him as he tried to open his eyes. His head felt heavy. Pressure pressed on his temples. He raised his hand and felt his forehead; a bandage was wound tightly above his eyes. Blinking, the room slowly came into view. Concrete, grey ugly concrete, the bed squeaked beneath him, just to his side were bars, hard iron, and unforgiving bars. Across the cell, his partner sat on the other cot, just staring at him.

"What happened?" He hated asking that question, hated not knowing.

"You hit your head, knocked yourself out."

He looked up, up at the ceiling, and tried to remember. Using the bars as support, he raised himself, turned and sat with his back against the cold metal. "Isaiah." Kid just nodded. "Louise?"

"She's fine."

He took another moment, gathering his thoughts. "Wheat? Kyle?"

Kid motioned to the other cell, the one just behind Heyes. As he did so, he heard a commotion, movement. "When Isaiah started shooting, they were able to get out of the way. When the marshals came in, they dove to the floor."

He heard Wheat behind him, "Now we wasn't about to take a bullet for them."

"And Isaiah?" Heyes asked.

"Dead. They decided to fight back. They lost." Kid spoke, matter-of-factly.

Heyes leaned his head back on the bars and closed his eyes. How many people had suffered because of him?

"She's safe. That's what's important." Kid could always tell what he was thinking. He might have been the one with the silver tongue, but Kid always knew what he needed to hear.

They sat in silence. Each man starred off into the distance, taking in what had happened and what had yet to be. From down the hall, bells rang; it was the bells over the Sheriff's door, echoing down the hallway. Barely taking notice, each man continued their silence.

"Kid, Heyes."

Heyes' eyes met those of the Kid's, each disbelieving, each too afraid to look towards the voice.

"Well, I'll be!" They heard Kyle exclaim behind them.

Slowly, they looked up. With his left arm tightly confined in a sling, Lom Trevors stood at the door, looking down at them. On his chest hung a gold star with the word Sheriff engraved at the top. At a snail's pace, each man stood and walked towards the door, still unsure of the sight that stood before them.

"Lom?" Kid asked.

"You were expecting someone else?"

Both men reached through the bars, lightly touching the arms of the friend they thought they had lost.

Heyes swallowed, "We thought…" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Close, but I'm still alive, no thanks to Kyle." He shot the outlaw a dark glance.

At the sight of it, Kyle clasped his hands together tightly, obviously ashamed. "I'm real sorry. Didn't mean to…"

"But you're alright?" Kid asked.

Lom lifted up his arm. "Bullet nicked the bone and went into my side. The doc wouldn't let me leave town for three weeks, afraid the wound would open up and I'd bleed to death. I just got back into town last night."

"You don't know how glad we are to see you Lom." Heyes spoke softly, his voice still weak from the shock.

"I went straight over to see the Governor, I got there right after you boys decided to shoot up the place."

Heyes shook his head no, "We didn't…"

Lom raised his other hand, "I know, I know. Isaiah Jackson. I heard what happened."

Heyes looked towards his partner, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Louise Johnson. After you two were taken away, she told us about Isaiah's plan, and how you tried to stop it. She also mentioned that you," he nodded towards Heyes, "put yourself between her and Isaiah. The Governor is mighty grateful."

Heyes and Kid shared a glance. Cautiously, Heyes asked, "How grateful?"

From his pocket, Lom pulled out a set of keys and inserted one into the lock and turned it. Opening the cell door, he stepped back. "This grateful." Heyes and Kid slowly walked out of the cell. "He's canceled the new warrant." He spoke towards Heyes. "You're still wanted, both of you are. He still has an election coming up and just can't risk giving you an amnesty, not after everything that's happened. But, if you two can somehow manage to stay out of trouble until after the election, then he might reconsider."

Closing the cell door, Lom walked over to where Kyle and Wheat stood. "As for you two." Taking the key, he opened the other door. "The Governor is also grateful for your part in all this. He's even willing to give you two a chance as well. If you think you can stay out of trouble, there just might be an amnesty in it for you."

Walking out of the cell, they both smiled. Wheat clasped his hand on Kyle's shoulder, "Just think about that Kyle, amnesty. We could go straight, no more runnin' from the law, getting shot at. We could get an honest job… get a… a, uh, job. Hard work… honest livin'…" He cocked his head and looked at Lom, "You mind if we get back to you on that?"

Lom smiled, "That'll be fine."

"Preciate it." Wheat nodded.

Kyle shyly walked up to Lom, "About what happened…"

"Don't mention it Kyle." Kyle smiled big. "Seriously Kyle, don't mention it."

His smile fading, he followed Wheat as they walked down the hall and out of the building.

Next to Kid, Lom asked, "How about you two? Think you can stay out of trouble."

Kid shrugged, "Probably not, but we'll try."

Each man smiled as they walked down the hallway, into the Sheriff's office and out into the sun. The day was quiet. People casually strolled up and down the street. Beside the mercantile, the shop-keepers daughter stood outside, cigar in hand, nervously watching for anyone looking her way. At the saloon, men walked in, happily looking for that drink. At the dress shop the woman stood outside, looking towards the saloon as she watched her lover walk away. The Army and Federal Marshals were gone, the street was at peace. Heyes took a deep breath. The air was clear and crisp. In the sky, sparse clouds fluttered across the sun, casting occasional shadows on the ground. He had never felt so good just to be alive.

Lom stood behind them. "I have two tickets for the 4 o'clock train. It's headed to Tucson."

The boys turned and took the tickets from his hands.

"Tucson?" Kid asked.

"It was the first train leaving town. I thought it would be best for you two to leave as soon as you could."

"I can't argue that." Heyes nodded, agreeing. "Lom, about everything that has happened…"

Lom raised his hand to stop him, "Heyes, bein' friends with you and the Kid has never been easy, but it's a friendship I wouldn't trade for the world."

* * *

The train whistled as it came down the tracks. With bag in hand, Kid looked towards it. They had changed back into their regular clothes. His brown jacket hung loose around him, Heyes sported a new jacket, a black one that fit him a bit too well as he continued to remark how warm it was and how he should also consider a new purchase. "I like mine just fine." He continued to repeat as he passed an irritated glance towards his partner, but all the while just glad to have someone that he could be irritated with.

"Trevors told me I could find you here." Turning, they saw Louise standing there. Wearing tight brown riding pants and a dark shirt, her holster was low and tied down, her pistol snug in the holster.

"Louise." Heyes stepped forwards, but then stopped.

She held up her hand. "I haven't forgiven you. Not yet. But you did save me from that awful man. For that, I thank you."

"No reason to thank us. In fact, we should be thanking you, for telling your father about what happened."

She shrugged. "I just told him the truth." She looked toward the train, which was now accepting passengers. "You should go." She stepped back.

Heyes walked to stand in front of her. "I am sorry. Perhaps one day…" His silver tongue was failing him.

She smiled slightly, "Perhaps one day. I must admit that I will forever think of you whenever I look up to the moon. Goodbye, Mr. Heyes." She whispered.

Tipping his hat, he smiled. "Goodbye." They watched as she walked away.

Behind him, Kid placed his hand upon his shoulder. "Think you'll ever see her again?"

"I'll make sure of it. Let's go, partner."

Boarding the train, they looked back. The town continued its hustle and bustle, just as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed. For them, everything had changed; they were given another chance, another opportunity to have the lives that they wanted. They planned to make good use of it; each man knew that it wasn't every day that someone was given a second chance, twice.


End file.
